The Breathing Process
by Lord Amaranth
Summary: Revenge is never a straight road, it's a desert, and just like a desert, it's easy to lose your way and forget where you were going. CassXBoone Kinda dark, kinda funny, kinda sad, kinda happy, kinda horrifying, kinda mysterious. Written in Cassidy's POV.
1. My Boy Builds Coffins

_A/N: Okay, so wow! Finally, my first story. It's a little different then most Fallout: New Vegas stories, but I think that's a good thing. _

_So without further adieu, I give you The Breathing Process._

_*crosses fingers*_

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><p>It feels like it's always been this way, the hot sun, the cold nights, the fire smelling of irradiated and rotten wood, the click of magazines being reloaded and slid into the breaches of our guns, this is all of course, when we have the time for such trivial matters. It's usually our little group walking…or running around, trying to help everybody, while our guns run dry and our bellies burn with unending hunger.<p>

But both Craig and I love Verlaine too much to just…walk out.

The day I first met the slender, red headed tribal women often replays in my head, when I'm not swimming in whiskey. She barged through the doors of the Mojave Outpost barracks, bleeding from various cuts and scrapes that decorated her small, willowy frame.

"_You wouldn't happen to have some bandages would you?" Her pale green eyes were wrought with fear, like she had a Deathclaw on her ass, and for all I knew, she could've. "If I did, do you honestly believe I would just hand them over?" My voice was harsh and thick with moonshine. I had made a batch for myself earlier that day and I was still swirling the drain with its effects. She however, was taken aback by my quick temper, her eyes showed more emotion then her pretty face did, and her eyes told of surprise and hurt._

_That's when I noticed the tribal tattoos…rose vines…_

"_I bet Jackson does…come with me."…_

I've been stuck to the girl ever since, and I couldn't really complain about the company, she was a good person, she had helped me come up with a solution to the Van Graff's and Crimson Caravan thing when I had brought it up, and when we had wandered into Novac, she had helped Craig track down the cunt who sold his wife to the Legion.

I glanced at Craig from across the smoldering fire, and as usual, his eyes were fixed on his weapon, cleaning, reloading, cleaning again, taking it apart and putting it back together after cleaning every, single, fucking, little piece. I often wonder how he does that with such efficiency. Did they teach him that in NCR? To keep every little fucker in that gun absolutely spotless?

"Craig…it's clean, now go use it to get some game for us to eat before I pass out." I broke the silence that came over everyone since we had set up camp. "For the last goddamn time, it's Boone, _Rosie_." I smirked; it was a rare opportunity to get a rise out of Craig, Boone, Deathclaw slayer, whatever the fuck he wanted to be called.

"But Craig is so much prettier…" His eyes flashed up at me, his trademark sunglasses removed since it was getting toward evening. "Verlaine, are you hungry?" He spared a glance at the woman, who sat on the other side of the fire, sharpening a variety of knives laid out before her, from hunting and combat daggers, to throwing blades no longer then my finger, and she knew how to use them.

"A priestess is trained from a young age to put hunger aside; I will be fine till we reach this…Strip." A priestess, that's what Verlaine said she was before she was a courier, out here in the god-forsaken Mojave.

A priestess to the tribal Goddess or whatever, from wherever she came from. They trained them hard though, from what I could tell. Verlaine was a strong woman, she was resolute in her beliefs…whatever those were, I couldn't really tell, but she knew how to handle herself, her naïveté endeared her to many, but made her target for many others, that's where those knives came into play.

"We're two days from Vegas, and we'll be walking through hot desert, you'll need food." Craig explained in a flat tone. He was a good man, in a sense. He was a trained sniper, and his shots always hit true, but there was something about the guy, he carried this burden, I didn't know what it was and for the most part, I didn't really care, we all had scars, emotional and physical, and I'd bet caps to whores that I was just as fucked up as he was.

"Don't be a bitch to her," I defended Verlaine sharply, and he turned on me. "Excuse me?" He asked, his gruff voice holding the tint of anger. "You heard me, don't be a bitch. If she's not hungry, then she's not hungry," I was cut off by Verlaine herself, "I will hunt, both of you should stay here at home camp." And before either Craig or I could respond, she was already on her feet and darting out from under the bridge we were camped out at.

I thought Craig and I would've gone back to snarling at each other, but he was back to his silent gun-working mode, his hands deftly sliding bullets into magazines. Thinking of the wisdom in his actions, I pulled my pistols from my thighs, and began to clean and repair the small little damages on them, a bent trigger, and jammed hammer, easy little things.

It was silent work, silent and demanding of concentration.

"You aren't a bitch," I said finally, after a good fifteen minutes of maintenance. I was met with stony silence however…so very fucking _typical_. "I mean, you're an ass, who thinks he's better then us because you think you've seen _so _much more then we have, and you're unbearably dickish, always being all quiet, and trying to go for that mysterious act, but I guess what I'm trying to say, is that you don't talk nearly enough for me to classify you as a whiny bitch." My sentences and breaks for breath were punctuated by the click of 9mm rounds sliding into the magazines.

More silence from the 1st Recon sniper.

"Oh my god!" I grabbed a nearby ammo-box lid and I chucked the stiff cardboard at his head, across the fire, I missed, but the intent was clear, "Fucking say something!" I growled at him, and finally, like a fucking miracle from God above.

"What? You clearly don't like me, and I clearly don't like you. I'm here to help Verlaine because I owe her, and you're here to help Verlaine, because you owe her. Therefore, I really don't need to make friends with you, and vice versa. You think I'm an arrogant ass, and I think you're an annoying, drunk off her ass bitch who thinks she knows something about something, but in reality, you're only here because let's face it…where else would you fucking go?" I tried not to let the sting at the end get to me, but trying wasn't good enough. I had no where else to go, now that the Caravan was in ruins, and Verlaine was really the only person who would probably put up with my shit.

But still…

"Low blow…" I said simply, loading the clips into the breaches of my pistols, before pulling my shotgun from my back to fill it with shells.

"And accusing me of thinking I'm better then everyone wasn't?" I pulled my eyes from my work to stare at him, across the campfire, which was beginning to dwindle to cinders.

"This conversation is completely juvenile…so how about a truce…for Verlaine's sake." He offered before I could come up with a witty response to him verbally outmaneuvering me. His offer of peace gave me pause me for a second though, as I mulled it over. I really didn't like the idea of making an enemy out of the man I would be stuck with for God knows how long, and I especially didn't relish the idea of making an enemy out of a 1st recon sniper.

"Truce then…ass." I felt it was an obligation too myself to throw in the last bit.

"Good, truce then…bitch." We both smirked,

But the smirk was wiped off my face when I heard it; Craig was already on his feet, his rifle shouldered and aiming around. Another gunshot, and this time, it sounded closer then before…a scream ringing out, decidedly male, but there was no answering gunshot…

"Verlaine!" I gasped, hefting my shotgun and running out from under the bridge, my eyes searching for the tribal woman, or at least a sign of the battle she was no doubt engaged in by herself, there were flashes to the right.

"There!" I cried, but Craig was already kneeled, staring down the scope of his rifle, he fired two shots in rapid succession, and I could make out two shapes dropping. "Fuck, she's wounded," He cursed, and was about to spring forward into a run, but I beat him by a good five seconds, my legs breaking into a sprint, my shotgun aimed and ready for the kill. My breath whooshed in and out of my lungs in desperation to save my friend, and I closed the distance between us pretty quickly.

And it was just as I thought.

"Die! You Legion fucks!" I screamed from atop the rock that overlooked the small skirmish, my shotgun roared with the first shot, ripping into the Legionary closest to Verlaine, it was a vicious wound, a hole blown clean in his chest, splashing Verlaine with the contents of his chest cavity.

From the looks the skirmish already, Verlaine had done well for herself, four Legionaries struggling to breathe with their throats torn open by one of her serrated knives. The Centurion leading the group was the last one left it seemed, he stood on the edge of the battle, and his carbine was hefted and aimed straight for me.

Who would shoot first?

Then I heard _the_ whistle, I don't think I had ever dropped to my knees as quickly as that, I took a shot anyway, as I dodged under the bullet that buried itself into the Centurion's forehead, I had missed, the burstfire barely skimming the Legion fuck's armor, but Craig didn't miss, and for that I knew I owed him.

I would have to wait to pay him back though, because I was suddenly blind sighted by another Legionary, hiding directly underneath the rock I had been perched on, his strong hands had gripped into my ankles and ripped me down, and I landed _hard_, smacking into the searing dirt of the Mojave, rocks sliced into my palms and knees through my denim, I managed to roll before he brought his foot down on my head, and I tackled him roughly.

"Roll him!" I could hear Craig's voice, and the cocking of his rifle, but I grunted in disagreement, landing a good, solid punch to the bastard's jaw, cracking it clean and sending his head back into the dirt, but he recovered quickly, and pulled me down, his knee somehow finding its way into my chest, before I was able to claw at his face, my nails digging through skin and an eye I think.

"Get her out!" I screamed at Craig, rolling the dickweed back under me, where my fists pummeled into his face, the splintering bone of his skull scraping my fists. I could see Craig move out of the corner of my eye, and when he moved Verlaine; her cry of pain distracted me for the one moment it took for the Legionary to regain the fight. He kicked me off and my head bashed into the rock we were fighting under, and stars flashed in my eyes, the pain blurring my vision for a moment, as I sank to my ass, the sharp pain and dizziness bringing me down.

The fuckwad regained his footing, standing up before me, his face bruised and smashed.

"Fucking whore…" He rasped, lifting a pistol level with my head.

Fucking damnit, I had always thought I would die with a drink in my hand at least. "Pussy." I dared, waiting for the bullet, staring down the barrel. I wanted to see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I wouldn't be some scared bitch who closed her eyes before she died, no, I would stare at the bullet until I couldn't stare anymore.

His finger tightened around the trigger, and he pulled.

The click was music to my ears, the pistol jammed from too much use and too little maintenance.

"That's why you clean your shit," I spat at him, my pistol already drawn, the shot was perfect, hitting him right in the throat, his eyes widened as the pain of the bullet took him down onto his back, but he wasn't dead, I knew that, I had been hoping for that. I pulled myself from my position, the pain in the back of my head making my first step a bit awkward, but I recovered quickly, this was nothing compared to Moonshine.

He was struggling to breathe, his hand clasped at his gushing throat, and his eyes were begging, positively begging for some sort of mercy. I planted my boot into his chest, and emptied the rest of the clip into his face, before I was satisfied at the hamburger left behind.

I slid another clip into the breach and holstered my pistol, my body aching and my head stinging with hot pain. I turned to head back to the camp, each step a labored effort. It wasn't until I was half-way back that I felt the back of my head, and my hands came back sticky and scarlet with blood.

"Oh fuck," I groaned, feeling the back of my head for the bleeding injury, I found it quickly enough, and I realized I was bleeding quite a bit more then it should've been. "Fuck me," I complained as I stepped back into the camp, and Craig gave me a wry glance. "Oh…fuck, just…help." I bounced slightly on my feet, "I'm not here to help with your sex drive." He said flatly, before turning away, back to Verlaine, who was laying on one of the bedrolls, her eyes were closed and she was sweating heavily, making her pale skin look even more pale and clammy and almost translucent.

"Not that you fuck, I need you stitch the back of my head…" I ground out, plopping down next to him to look at Verlaine more closely.

"What's wrong with her? She looks like…" I couldn't say she looked like she was dying, because I felt like if I did say that, that would make it true, and Verlaine couldn't die, she just couldn't, that wasn't how these things were supposed to work.

"It's some sort of poison, I don't know which. But she's not doing so great," He held up a small knife held in a cloth, coated with blood. "That was buried in her chest; do you know anything about venoms?" Even though it was something I thought I'd never see; Craig actually looked pretty worried.

I sniffed the dagger lightly, searching for the twang of any sort of common poison. "It's not Bleak, and it's not Silver Sting," I dropped the knife into its cloth, before feeling Verlaine's forehead, her skin was burning hot and as I moved my hand down to her neck to feel her pulse, that too was beginning to slow.

"Fuck, she won't make it without an antidote," My hands involuntarily pulled on my hair, stress gripping me. This wasn't right; Verlaine was too strong for this shit. She was a priestess or whatever. She had to survive this.

"Cass…" I turned, those pale green eyes were gazing at me, weak and almost lifeless, and there was no more light in her irises, no more spark. She knew…

"I shall not make it alive to the Strip…I know of this poison, and I know there…is…no cure." Her voice was slipping and slurred, she had to work to pronounce the simplest of sounds. "Find the…platinum chip, it's important somehow. The checkered suit man stole it, you have to get it back and stop whatever he…was willing to try and kill me over it for." She said, in a vocal mixture of a rasp and a slur.

I just nodded, tears budding in my eyes.

But I forced those bitches back; I wouldn't cry in front of her, that would break her in some way, I knew it. I could cry my eyes out later, and find the fucker that started this whole mess and make him suffer in ways he couldn't even dream of.

"Boone, please hel…" She couldn't finish her sentence as her lungs seemed to run out of air, and she was covered in a hacking cough, before closing her eyes again. "I will." Craig seemed to know what she was asking anyway, and he agreed steadily.

"I…go…to the Godde…" The words were barely comprehensible, and her chest stopped moving with the last bit of what could only be the word 'Goddess' and it was done. Verlaine, my only friend in the world was dead…

The steaming hot tears gushed free from their prisons and raced down my cheeks, but I made no sound, I did not weep, I did not cry out, I did not wail. I simply stood there, with my eyes clenched, shaking from the pain of it all.

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><p>The rocks dug into my ass, and my eyes were still blurry from tears, the camp fire roared, newly refreshed with more wood. Craig's deft hands worked quickly with a needle and thread, stitching my head back together, each pinch and tug and pull keeping me laced into my body somehow. I could see her grave from here, the mound of earth with all 13 of her daggers stabbed into the dirt in monument of the girl who died earlier that night.<p>

Craig had wanted to fix up my head first before we buried her, but I had none of it. We dug her grave with our own two hands, which we had to bandage afterward. He hadn't said a word since I had told him we had to bury her first.

"Please say…something…" I whispered, crinkling my eyes at a particularly painful pinch of the needle.

"They'll all die; every last one of those bastards." A final pinch and tug and his hands were gone. "All done," He said, before scooting away from me. I crawled back to my side of the fire, and stared at the man across from me, for once noticing the actual pain and sadness etched into his face. He didn't show it the way I showed it, but I knew he was hurting the same way I was.

"Thank you…" I said, after a moment of examining him. "You're welcome," He answered, before rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. "How'd you…um…survive I guess back there with the Legionary?" His voice was as exhausted as his eyes were, but I appreciated the effort for small talk in such a dismal time. "I barely did, he kicked me off and I bashed my head against the rock, hence the gash. But in the end, I won out, his gun jammed…mine didn't." I looked down at my hands hanging useless between my knees.

Unconsciously, I reached into my pack and pulled the bottle from it. A good bottle of whiskey, nice and amber in color, the promise of a full nights sleep basically. "Want some?" I asked; my voice rather dead.

"If you're willing to share it," He answered; I tore the cork out and took a long, healthy swig of the amber nectar, letting the burn hit my tongue like a wild fire. I could feel the warmth spread within me, dampening the sheer agony. I tossed the bottle to him, and leaned my head back against the concrete pillar holding up the bridge above our heads. I concentrated on the whiskey hitting me, but it wasn't nearly enough.

"Y'know…if I had known she was going to die, I probably wouldn't have tried to survive so hard." My voice was bitter, far more bitter then I had wanted to sound. "She'd have been horrified to hear you say that," Craig's voice pierced the smoke gathering in my mind. The bottle was tossed back and another mouthful went down, two mouthfuls…a third.

"I know." I tossed the bottle back, and closed my eyes.

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><p><em>AN: I hope everyone likes it!  
>The music I was listening to for this chapter was <span>My Boy Builds Coffins<span> by Florence + The Machine  
>Please do leave a comment or a critique, they're why I'm here.<em>

Final Edit: August 7, 2011


	2. Hurricane

_A/N: Yay! Another chapter! I hope everybody who's read the story digs it.  
>Also, I am beta-less, so all mistakes are my own. I am totally looking for a beta though, so if anyone's free, and would like to help me out, lemme know!<em>

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><p>Waking up in the Mojave was never a fun experience exactly, and this time was no different. My eyes flew open at the sound of a gunshot, piercingly clear and far too close for it to be safe to brush off.<p>

My pistol was gripped in my hand when I shot up, and Craig was giving me a wry smile as he walked back into our little camp, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, "Jumpy?" He asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"What'd you shoot?" I asked, holstering my pistol with a grunt, so much for 'never let them see you sweat'.

"Gecko, it was getting close to the camp." He answered, sitting down across from the burnt out fire from last night.

"How long have you been up?" I wondered, staring out at the sky from under the ruined bridge, it wasn't even light out yet, "I didn't sleep."

"What the fuck? Why in the hell not?" I gaped slightly, he must be exhausted.

"Someone needed to keep watch, and you passed out pretty quickly after you finished the whiskey," Maybe it was instinct, or I simply had gotten used to having her there, but I looked to Verlaine's bedroll, wanting verification on his story. But my eyes met nothing, there wasn't any life there, just an empty bedroll and her pack lying on its side, slightly unzipped, with its owner buried six feet under not ten feet away.

I didn't say anything, my head just dropped and I had to fight back tears yet again, thinking all the time how stupid I was being. It wasn't like this was the first death I had seen. Fuck, I had killed people, why the hell was her death so painful.

"She was your friend…she accepted you for who you were." Craig read my mind, his voice was soft, trying to show a least a sliver of decency. I brushed my fingers over the back of my head, feeling the gash there, and the battle from yesterday rushed into my vision. The Legionary's gun had jammed, and I emptied a whole clip into his head, the blade that poisoned Verlaine, and ripped her from our little group.

Hot tears broke through my lids and slowly ran down my cheek in salty rivers. I wiped them away with an absent hand.

"Please, just…I know you mean well, but don't analyze me, Craig. Alright?" My voice was ugly and thick with tears and I fought to keep from rolling my eyes at how hideous I must've sounded.

"You aren't alone, Cass, she'll be missed." Craig answered me, his eyes staring out at Verlaine's grave with mine, the mound of freshly turned earth, all13 of her knives jutting from the soil in remembrance of her amazing physical combat prowess.

"I think she may have been the only woman who could beat either of us in a fight…" I said after so long of simply staring at the memorial as the sky slowly began to alight with the fires of morning.

To my surprise, Craig actually laughed, a literal fucking laugh. It was the strangest sound, he never laughs, he usually…like…chuckles, or chortles, and it usually makes me grit my teeth because I'm always almost positive its one of those bitchy sarcastic laughs. But this was genuine, or at least it sounded genuine.

"Do you remember the first time we came across a Giant radscorpion, south of – what was it? NCRCF, I think, anyway, remember how she grappled the things tail when it tried to sting you, and she like – rode the thing." The memory was enough to bring a bitter laugh to me as I recalled it, and it brought out another good round of laughs from Craig as well.

But it fell silent once the moment had died down, and suddenly, it was the wasteland again, and the memory was just that, a memory.

"Dawn's here, we need to get moving soon. So, reload your shit, and I'll catch us some breakfast, and then we have to get moving." Craig said after a few minutes of silent reverence.

"No, we should stay, you need some sleep." I argued, not looking at him. I was already working on reloading my guns, sliding bullets into my pistols magazines.

"Not if we're gonna make…" He didn't finish the sentence, and it was silent for a few moments, before I glanced up at him.

"What is it?" I wondered aloud, but I received no answer, the sniper just shook his head slightly.

"We're going to kill him right? 'The checkered-suit man', we'll put a bullet in his brain…right?" Craig finally asked, his haunted eyes gazing back out towards Verlaine's grave.

"We'll do more then that, we'll kill him, and we'll leave his body for the Cazadores, and then we'll topple whatever the hell it is he has going for him at the Strip, and then we'll hunt down every last one of those fucking Khans who helped him." I wasn't ranting or raving as I said this, my voice was cold and calm, perfectly truthful. I wasn't stating what we hoped we were gonna do, I was stating what was simply going to happen.

"Good…" Craig gave me one of his rare smiles.

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><p>Neither of us wanted to make the first move. We had eaten in silence, and we had reloaded every single weapon we had, we had cleaned up our own sleeping spaces till they were both literally just as we left them, all because we both wanted to put off cleaning up Verlaine's stuff for as long as possible.<p>

Her bedroll still had the crease in it from where she had been laying, not twelve hours before. The blood was dried, but still slightly red, the poisoned blade in the rag still lying on the dirt next to the sleeping bag.

"Should we just…leave it here?" Craig asked after a few moments of awkward silence, "Are you fucking insane?" I accused, and he rolled his eyes at me, disdaining to justify me with an answer that we both knew would be 'kinda'.

"Leave the bedroll, but we need to take her pack with us…I say – we spilt the supplies," I glanced at him when he didn't answer right away.

"Sound good?" I prompted, and he just nodded, his face drawn.

Slowly, he reached down and unzipped the bag, and dumped its contents onto the bedroll.

Three stimpaks, a 9mm and two clips, and her wrist computer, I took a deep breath before kneeling down beside Craig.

"Why didn't she ever wear that thing?" I wondered, picking up the Pip-boy, examining the screen, such a device would useful, and yet she just left it in her pack to gather dust.

"I asked her that once. She said it was too bulky, interfered with her throwing arm. Plus, I don't think she really knew how to use it, she wasn't raised with tech like us." It was a good enough explanation.

"I wonder what it was like for her, to come here to the Mojave, and be thrust into the way of life we have here." He inquired, gathering up the stimpaks and shoving them into his pack, "It would've been so lonely…" He added, quickly holstering the pistol onto his left thigh.

"At least she had us…may not have been the greatest concession, but it's something." I offered, pushing the Pip-boy into my pack, to which he noticed, "You aren't going to wear it?" The thought had crossed my mind, in all honesty, but…I didn't know exactly what my reasoning was for not putting the thing on. It just felt like…it was Verlaine's, and I couldn't ever wear anything that was hers.

"No, I don't think so…" I answered him, pushing myself back to my feet. "So – its two days to Vegas right?" I asked, as I walked out from under the bridge, looking out towards the tower of the Lucky 38.

"Yeah, give or take. The biggest problem I can see is actually getting in. It takes 2 grand to pass the credit check." I chewed on this, while Craig finished up gathering the last few things before we set off to avenge our friend.

"Doesn't NCR have a monorail at McCarran that sends Troopers to and from the Strip without a credit check?" It wasn't the best idea, I knew that, seeing as how it was highly unlikely the NCR would ever let a civilian use their tramway.

"As if they'd let either of us on that thing…" Craig scoffed and I turned to him, my eyebrow quirked, "You're an NCR sniper, fucking hell, you're 1st Recon, why the fuck wouldn't they let you at least use it?" Even if I couldn't be there, if Craig could use the tram to get across, and kill that motherfucker Benny, I'd be sated.

"I was 1st Recon, Cass…not anymore." I wanted to press him for details, but there was a warning in his eyes, and I kept my mouth shut.

"Well…not all is lost. If we scrounge together some money, an odd job or two, I know a guy who can get us in." I thought back to Mick and Ralph's, easily one of the shadiest stores in the Mojave, they were at least good people, and with any luck, I could get Ralph to fork over some weapons for Craig and I.

"You have a contact in the Strip?" I shook my head, "No, he lives in Freeside, you'll hate him, but I'd bet my tits you'd like his partner." This was good, a plan, finally, we had a solid direction, a straight and sure objective.

"I'm sure the Crimson Caravan would have some paying work for us, even if it's just guard duty or something," I knew Craig was trying to be helpful, but even as such, I clenched my fists, and my eyes shut tight, a headache blooming behind my skull.

"Alice Mclafferty can go fuck her mother, I will _never _work for her, I sold that bitch my name after my Caravan was destroyed, and I'm sorry Craig; but I still have enough pride to try and find work elsewhere," I sounded quite a bit harsher then intended.

"Uhh okay…fine…we can…find someone else to work for, minus prostitution of course." The smirk rang in his voice.

"Oh I don't know Craig…I think you'd make an excellent hooker, those pretty lips of yours…" I chided, and he gave me a withering glare, which only caused me to grin wider. I was slightly disappointed that it wasn't a viable option, "A lot of people do love a hardened soldier and that ass…good God you could bounce a cap off that." I only received rolled eyes, and a sarcastic grin.

"And that bulge! No wonder why the Deathclaws always go for th…"

"For fuck's sake, I get it Cass, I'd be a good prostitute," He started off walking towards the tower in the distance.

"We should see if Gomorrah has any openings once we're in the Strip, I could even be your Madame!" I bounced a little in my step, truly laughing in happiness for the first time since…

And there it goes,

I can feel my face drop and the moment of light-hearted teasing was ripped away, the visual of Verlaine's dying face suddenly scorched into the forefront of my mind, I stopped walking, and simply closed my eyes, willing the tortured image to leave me. "She wouldn't want us to mourn her…" Craig's voice pierced the image, brightening my mind and easing my spirit. How does he do that?

"I know…it's just…I feel like laughing is a desecration because she's not here to laugh with us." I was grateful that I felt no tears oozing down my cheeks.

"You know as well as I do, that she'd want us to laugh often, to be happy and to be content. She always tried to teach us that, you know? I could see it, but I never really followed it, because I've always been so hung up on Carla." I stared hard at Craig, his eyes were tinged with red, and it was the strangest sight to me, this sort of emotion didn't fit him. This was…far too out of character for him.

"Verlaine believed that you had to live life to the fullest, and remember how she would always pray for any creature that we had to kill? Remember the Deathclaw down near Nipton? The thing nearly slaughtered us all, but when we had finally killed the fucker, she cried for the creature, and I remember I asked her what she was upset about, and she said she was sad, because it was wasted potential, a wasted life, wasted energy, and that…her…Goddess was weeping for the loss of life." I could remember in my mind what Craig was talking about; I could vaguely recall this instance.

"You know that's bullshit, right? In the Wasteland, it's kill or be killed, pacifism gets you dead." Craig was shaking his head before I could finish the sentence.

"That's not what she meant, she knew better then anyone, that the Wasteland is a war at all times, what she meant, was that you shouldn't waste potential, you shouldn't waste a life, so…I guess what I'm trying to say, is that I think Verlaine would want us to be happy, she wouldn't want her death to drag us down with her." I didn't have an answer; I only stared at my feet, the scuffs on my leather boots.

"I think I understand…it doesn't change a thing though. I'm still gonna gut Benny, I'll just make sure to smile and really savor it when I do it." I tilted my head side to side, cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders, "I'll hold him down…" Craig gave me a smirk.

"Well then…I think we should probably start to make our way to Vegas then." And without another word, we both silently started out on our way to our revenge.

* * *

><p>Now, I've always known Craig would be a bit heavy, given that he has about half a foot of height on me, and that's he practically solid-muscle, but I would have never guessed that he weighed this fucking much.<p>

The stomach wound was bleeding profusely, and every few feet, we would have to stop, so he could retch up his guts. His shirt was in shreds practically, and his skin was slicked with sweat and blood, his arm was weak and he was beginning to loose consciousness as we walked.

"Cass…I…can't, I just…can't." He moaned, his arms slipped from my shoulders, and he fell to the cold road beneath our feet, "Fuck, Craig…stay with me," I shouted, hoisting him back up. I could see the smoke and firelight from the 188 trading post ahead, and it was getting easier to see as the sun began to set. I pushed us forward, my own body taxed almost to its limits.

"Next time, I say…watch for fucking Cazadores…do me…a goddamn favor, and watch for…the fucking Cazadores," Craig whispered, his voice hoarse and harsh. A pang of guilt struck me again, our roles should be reversed and I knew it. He had warned me that the poisonous little fuckers lurked in that grotto, and so, what do I do, I go tromping through like an idiot, because I was in a Caravan, and I knew how to avoid them, and I was this, and I was that.

Just another guilt for me to hate myself for, I suppose.

"You shouldn't have…damnit Craig…" I couldn't even say it, I was so shaken up. But isn't that the punishment with these things, you can't confess them because they are so surreal and stressful, but they keep replaying in your head, like a radio loop, just over and over again, while you're mind tries to find the evidence that it either wasn't your fault, or that there was something you could've done.

I can still hear the cacophony of the Cazadore's buzzing wings, as they descended from above, because I had disturbed their nest. My shotgun roared, and it rained bug guts as they were torn apart by the buckshot. And then, there it was; the Queen, the biggest one of the whole colony, how I had missed her I still can't recall, and she was headed straight for me, her 6 inch long stinger aimed for my chest.

But that's where it all looses its coherency. I was suddenly being shoved roughly into the dirt, the rocks and sand scraping into my skin and causing searing agony to race through me from where the gash on the back of my head met hot sand. The shotgun in my hands, recoil, the spray of blood, a scream that wasn't human, and another scream that was.

And then Craig was in my arms, the stinger protruding brutally from Craig's stomach, it hadn't fully been driven in, but the damage was done, and the stinger was dripping with poison and blood when I pulled it from his stomach. I injected the Stimpaks directly around the wound, but the fucker just wouldn't heal, the poison was preventing clotting, while playing havoc with his stomach and his lucidity.

"You…wouldn't…have made it through…and…you know it." Craig gasped out, "Better me…" His sentence was interrupted with another heave and the contents of his stomach spilling out onto the pavement.

Another ten feet, and we were in the trading post.

"Help! Someone! Please help!" I screamed as we stumbled into the sparse encampment. Not many people had ever been out here, but I was praying to whatever the fuck was out there that there was a doctor here. Several people came running.

"He was poisoned by a Cazadore Queen," I explained quickly to one of the Caravan medics while two of the guards led him away and set him down on a loose mattress.

The medic, or at least I hoped she was a medic, was a scrawny girl, she wore a tribal robe, like the one that Verlaine wore, but brown instead of black, her face was partially concealed by a hood.

"How long ago?" The girl asked; her voice was high, and girlish.

"I don't know, fuck…maybe 3 hours, I injected him with three stimpaks, but the wound isn't healing," Stress poured through me, and we both moved to Craig's side. Convulsions had sent in, and his face was drenched in a freezing sweat.

"Michelle! Get the antivenom from the med kit, and a few Stims, quick!" The girl ordered, as she knelt by Craig, before pulling the bloody pieces of his shirt away from the wound.

It was grisly, the flesh torn and punctured, the area around it was a deep purple, but unlike a bruise, the purple was moving and writhing beneath his skin, "What the fuck is that?" I gasped, lightly wiping some sweat from Craig's brow.

"The venom, the regenerating stimulants in the stimpaks you administered are keeping the venom from spreading, but at the same time, the stimulants can't get to the wound to close it, which could cause infection. We'll have to douse the wound with alcohol, and then cauterize it, after we get the antivenom in him. Michelle! The antivenom, now goddamnit!" The girl screamed, holding out her hand, a clear bottle was passed into her grip.

"Get the alcohol, and a hot iron, and heat it good to sterilize it." She ordered, while slowly pouring some of the antivenom down Craig's throat. He heaved, but I pressed his head back and gently pushed on his throat, I could feel the antivenom sliding down into him. More was poured directly into the wound, which caused him to lurch, a grunt of pain escaping his lips.

Tears were gushing down my cheeks.

"Fuck, Craig fight! I can't loose you too, not after Verlaine, if you die; I swear to God I will never forgive you!" My voice was shaking, but I managed to get my useless threat out without completely garbling it.

"Hold him down, the alcohol won't be pleasant," The girl ordered, uncorking a new bottle in her hand. I moved around to Craig's head, and I gently laid his head in my lap. "He'll be fine, go." I said, wiping more sweat off his face.

It was brutal, the alcohol sizzled slightly as it ate away the infection in the wound, and he screamed, not a yell, not a shout, not a howl, an agony-laced scream. My hands pressed hard into his shoulders to keep him from flying off the bed in a fit of torture, "I said hold him damnit!" The girl shouted, as she pressed the almost red hot iron into the wound. The smoke and sound of cooking skin assaulted me, and I screamed along with Craig.

* * *

><p>"You alright?" I looked up, the bottle of whiskey gripped in my hands, the familiar warmth flowing through me, deadening my senses, and the guilt at what Craig had endured for me. The girl sat down next to me, leaning against the lane divider while we watched Craig sleep, bandages wrapped tightly around his middle.<p>

"Not really; which is total bullshit because I wasn't the one who got impaled by a fucking bug queen," I took a thick swallow of whiskey, wiping my mouth with my sleeve, my lids were heavy and my body ached for sleep, but I just couldn't seem to pull myself to the mattress the traders had so kindly laid down for me.

"He'll recover, your boyfriend's strong." I glanced at the girl, about to correct her that I would rather shoot myself then call Craig my boyfriend, but I decided to fuck it and took another swig. "Thanks for helping us…I…I had no idea what to do," I admitted, swishing the whiskey around in the bottle lazily.

"Oh, it's no problem, if I can help people; I try to do my best." She answered with that tinkling high voice of hers.

"Where'd you even learn to treat a wound like that, I've been in the Caravan business a long fucking time, and I've never seen someone work so efficiently like that without being a Follower of the Apocalypse or something," Two more swallows in rapid succession, soon my bottle would be dry, and I'd have to finally go to sleep. Not enough caps to buy another bottle.

"Well, I'm no doctor or anything, I've had some training in the medical sciences, mostly on practice-dummies, but I'm glad I was able to help a real person!" I had half a mind to ask her where she was from that they gave out free medical training, but I decided against it, finishing off the last of my bottle.

"I'm Cass," I offered, standing straight up, before arching forward and popping my back, stretching my arms high above my head to work the whiskey out, "I'm Veronica, nice to meet you, Cass." She said before standing herself and heading off towards another bed. I approached my bed, positioned right across from Craig. I slipped my guns off as quietly as I could, and my boots came next, before I laid down, facing him, his eyes closed, and his breathing even and steady. The wicked purple poison beneath his skin was fading, and the wound was already bleeding considerably less.

And that's when the worst decision I could've possibly made at that moment happened, and I reached out and laid my hand against his smooth chest, feeling his heart beat, steady and slowly gaining its strength back. Unconsciously, his hand closed over mine, and his head lolled to the side in sleep.

"Carla," He whispered as light as could be, and I retracted my hand as if I had been burned. Taking my hat off, and laying it by my side, I rolled onto my other side, and closed my eyes, thoroughly confused at my reaction…

* * *

><p><em>AN: Okay, so that's another one down!  
>The music for this chapter was <span>Hurricane<span> by 30 seconds to mars.  
>Please do leave a comment or a critique, they're why I'm here.<em>

Edited as of August 14, Final edit pending.


	3. Bulletproof

_A/N: A new chapter! Yay! Isn't it exciting, I think it's exciting. Anyway, I hope all my readers are loving the story so far, because I'm having such a blast writing it.  
>I'll be honest, I do think the chapter gets a little draggy towards the end, but then it picks up though, so I hope you all like it regardless. <em>

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><p>"Goddamnit Cass, this isn't funny!" Craig swore at me, and there was real venom in his voice now, real, breathing anger. But I knew I was doing the right thing, or more like the smart thing, and it would take an act of god to get me to budge even an inch.<p>

"Get back in your tent, and lay down on the fucking mattress, Craig, and I won't have to hurt her." I warned, my body tense, holding the machete high above the smooth exterior of Craig's rifle.

"If we don't get a move on right now, we'll lose a day of travel, I can walk. I'm fine." I just shook my head at him. He was so full of shit, he couldn't even stand straight, he was bent over, leaning on the lane divider while glaring at me with a furious intensity, a hand wrapped around his middle, the bandages were beginning to color with blood, he had no doubt ripped a few stitches Veronica had applied just the night before.

"You're not fine, you almost fucking died. Now take your 'big and bad' ass back to your bed and lay the fuck down, or I swear to god, I will dismantle your gun, and then I will pick your skinny ass up and _make _you lay down. And believe me, in the condition you're in; and how hopped up on adrenaline I am, I would _so _win." I stared down the 1st Recon sniper, slowly beginning to lower the machete.

"You vicious bitch, if you fuck up my gun, what will I use when I _am _better?" He dared, cocking his head to the side as if in sarcasm.

"I'll buy you a new one." I enunciated singularly, as if I was talking to a small child, "With what money?" He retorted with the same voice,

"Motherfucker; don't play with me – get back in bed." I twirled the machete around, pointing at our tent with it. Dawn was cresting over the edge of the horizon, and my own body ached for more sleep. I barely slept last night with the touching, and the Carla calling. Why did I come to see his wife's name as an offence?

And naturally, this morning, when I had finally begun to drift into a real sleep instead of a fast grouping of catnaps, he was already awake, and packing up his shit, and shaking me awake.

I was as much fueled by concern for his wounds as I was by the sheer annoyance of it all.

"Cass please…we don't have the time." He shook his head; sweat beginning to sheen on his forehead, just standing there was probably immensely painful. Why was he such a stubborn dick? Holy fuck, if I had pulled this shit, he would've already sedated me, I swear to god.

I could understand where he was coming from though, he didn't show it that well, especially now when we had an audience, but he was hurting, and he was burning for the revenge that we had promised each other, and he was right in a way, time was not something we had a lot of, seeing as how we had our work cut out for us. Bringing down the leader of the Chairmen, and then decimating the Khans for aiding him, and finally, bringing the Legion to its fucking knees.

But revenge had always been a messy business and we couldn't go in half-cocked and hurt.

"We'll make time. Do you know what it would do to me if I lost you so close to loosing Verlaine, I swear to god, Craig…you are like…my only friend in the world. If I have hold you down till your better, I'll do it. And – even though you are a huge fucking pain in the ass, I hate to see you hurt, and you are in agony just standing there and don't you dare deny it, damnit." I lowered the machete, realizing how completely unstable I must've been looking to all the traders and merchants who had their shop's set up here at the 188.

Craig was silent though, looking down at the street, clutching his stomach and clenching his eyes shut in pain, his breathing coming in labored gasps.

"Alright," He moaned after a minute, "but the second I can stand straight, we're leaving." He groused roughly. "Perfect," I agreed, taking hold of his gun, I walked back over to him and placed the rifle in his hands, and then placing his arm over my shoulders, I helped him back into our tent.

Once I had settled him settled, reclining on his mattress, I grabbed the last two bottles of whiskey, and turned to him. "Okay, so what do you want for breakfast?" I asked, completely serious, he just gave me one of those wry smiles.  
>"I'll take the left one?" I rolled my eyes.<p>

"Good god, you're thick. I'm going to sell these for enough caps for food. I can't hunt like you can; I have to buy my meals." I explained in my slow voice – yet again, by god, it's like talking to a 3 year old at times.  
>"Oh, I'm sorry," He apologized, "It's just you're an absolute lush, so I just <em>guessed<em> that whiskey was your choice of sustenance," I clenched my teeth, thoroughly zinged.

"Okay then, smartass. You'll eat what I get you," And without another word, I left the tent.

Veronica was sitting on the bench in front of the little slop and shop they had set up on the overpass, I took a seat next to her, and pushed the two whiskey bottles towards the trader.

"Can I get breakfast for two with these?" The girl, it was Michelle from yesterday, the girl who helped Veronica save Craig, she glanced at the bottles, and then at the label and her eyebrows rose to her hairline.

"Wow, these are high-end, top-shelf stuff. What, did you raid the Ultra-Luxe?" She put both of the bottles back on the shelf behind her, before opening up a bag of caps from under the counter.

"Those'll get you a few days worth of meals…" She said as she counted out a number of caps, before putting them on the counter and sliding them toward me, "And about 125 caps, I'd say. 'Cause I like you," She gave me a smile and turned to the stove in the back of the little shop, stirring a large pot over the small fire.

"How'd you sleep?" Veronica asked idly, swallowing a spoonful of the stew in her bowl, "Like shit," I answered her dryly, already missing the whiskey, and Michelle had put it right where the sun caught the color of the nectar, it looked _so _good from where I was sitting.

"Why like shit?" I fought my knee-jerk reaction of a dramatic sigh and ignoring her, she didn't deserve that especially after saving Craig. She was just curious is all, it's not like she was asking for some nefarious purpose.

"I haven't slept well since my childhood, and even then I had nightmares. It's just the way life is for me; it's not a big deal." As indulging as my confession was, she still seemed to want more.

She should count herself lucky she got that, I _never _talk about my childhood.

"What were the nightmares about?" I bit my lip to keep my scathing response from flooding out and turning an ally into an enemy.  
>"I don't like to talk about them, let's just say they were bad, alright?" As even-tempered as my retort was, my voice was still probably harsher then it should've been.<p>

"Well, I for one am sorry you don't sleep well," Veronica responded with a polite pat on the hand, I gave her a small smile.

"So, where are you from, Veronica?" I had been good and answered one of her questions, I felt entitled to one of my own, "Oh me? I'm from a magical dimension called Avalon where there are millions of sexbots everywhere," and just like that, the girl was gone, walking back to her tent, leaving me dumbfounded.

"Did that really just happen?" I asked Michelle for confirmation, a part of me couldn't believe it for some strange reason.

"Yep, she doesn't like to talk about the Brotherhood, she's told me, but that's it. She's a Brotherhood of Steel scribe, or paladin or something, I don't rightly remember. Don't take it personally, she says stuff like that to most people who ask, she's not being malicious," Michelle explained, setting down two steaming hot bowls of stew before me.

"Brahmin and Mutfruit stew, it's a signature recipe of mine, and you're extra lucky because this batch was made with purified water and actual salt that I got off a trader who came from the Strip, lemme know if you like it," She held out two spoons toward me, "I'll one-up that request, and get you two opinions," I smiled at her, gathered the bowls and headed for the tent, calling a 'thanks' back to Michelle before ducking inside.

Craig was sitting up on his mattress, his arms wrapped around his legs and his head resting on his knees, grunts of pain emanated from him, "That position cannot be comfortable," I set the bowls down, next to the bed and kneeled next to him. He rolled his head back, "I think I tore one of my stitches, it stings like a motherfucker," His eyes were dreary with pain and exhaustion.

He no doubt slept like shit last night too.

Fetching my pack, I took out the needle and thread Veronica had given me the night before after she had stitched him up, placing the thread through the needles eye, I turned back to Craig, "Shirt off and lay back," He complied quickly, but had trouble getting the shirt off without help, he couldn't move his arms that far without stretching his abdominal muscles.

I laid him back gently, and examined the wound, it looked marginally better then yesterday, the purple discoloration from the poison was completely gone, but sure enough, he tore his bottom stitches, the rest of the wound had been cauterized shut, but a slow trickle of blood wept from where his skin had pulled off from the stitching.

I did my best to be as gentle as possible while I slid the useless stitching out of him, but he still moaned with the occasional spike of pain, and once that was done, I set to work stitching the wound again, light and gentle stitches that would be tight enough to keep him from ripping them again unintentionally.

Once I was finished I sat back, and gave him a smile. It was strange, he was staring at me with this – I don't really know – this unknowable stare, like he was so glad for that moment to have me there. It made me look around awkwardly for the stew, and when I found his bowl, I helped him into a sitting position and passed him a spoon.

"Once we're done, I'll check around at the other traders to see if they have any stimpaks, two of those and you'll be good to go tomorrow," He silently nodded at me, swallowing spoonfuls of stew, "Hey, how's your head?" He asked after a few minutes of quiet eating.

Absent-mindedly, my hand went to the gash and felt at the seemingly incomparable wound.

"Fine I think, it doesn't really hurt anymore, only when I prod it," I shrugged, it seemed hardly important compared to the crippling wound Craig was suffering through.

"Did you sleep okay last night?" I sighed exasperated at his question, "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" I wondered back, "Probably because the circles under your eyes," it was so stupid, but this brought me up short. Craig had time to pay attention to the dark circles under my eyes while he was in a rather large amount of rupturing pain?

"Well, no, I didn't sleep that well, I was worried for you, and I don't think I had enough whiskey to get me to sleep," I answered his original question after a minute of thinking and a few more spoonfuls of stew.

"Why were you worried, I'm fine," He questioned, turning a piece of Brahmin meat over and over in his bowl, a scowl on his face, as if he was trying to work through something.

"If you say you're fine one more time, I'll slap you so hard your teeth will bleed." I threatened with a playful smirk, "But…I was worried that I'd have to bury you like Verlaine. I don't have the strength for that right now," I finished my thought. He glanced up at me, and just nodded knowingly.

"I couldn't bury you right now either," He added,

"So, how'd you sleep Mister a-okay?" I chuckled, sipping some of the stew broth out of the bowl, "I had the strangest dream that Carla was in the tent with us…" He shook his head slightly, as if to disperse the memory.

My reaction was only spilt-second and I had recovered with another sip of broth, just as quickly. He truly thought my touch was that of Carla's. His hand had found its way inside of his shirt and pressed itself against his heart, right where my hand had been. He set his bowl in front of him, and closed his eyes.

"What – what happened to Carla?" I asked; my voice light with curiosity.

"You have no right to ask me that," He shot back, his eyes opening and throwing the angriest death-glare I had ever gotten from him. Slightly shocked, but not really offended, after all, I should've known that was a touchy subject. Gathering up the bowls, I stood to leave the tent, and Craig sighed, "Wait, Cass…damnit, I'm sorry, it's just…" I held up a freehand to stop him, "No need to explain, I get it…we all have our scars," I felt no ill-will, partly because I know I would've reacted worse if he ever, so much breathed a question like that about my father.

Without giving a chance to reply, I grabbed my pack in one hand, and headed out of the tent. Michelle was peering over from her diner, a wondering look etched on her face, "It was great, he loved it." I put on a fake smile and slid the bowls to her, and left before she could say anything, completely out of the mood to talk anyone.

I walked to the concrete divider on the edge of the overpass and leaned out, watching the sky above brighten minutely with sunlight.

The feeling of abandonment was so pervasive it seemed, and the feeling of complete and utter dispassion washed through me, erasing everything else. He left us, he left mom to die alone, he left her to wait forever and ever always hoping that today was the day he was going to walk back through the door, and everything would be okay, and we could all pretend he never left in the first place.

I never had the heart to tell her that she was wasting her life on her foolish hope.

"You were never my father," I whispered, closing my eyes, deeply wishing I had never thought of the bastard in the first place.

"You ok, sweetie?" Michelle called, no doubt seeing the tensing of my shoulders; I fought to keep from rolling my eyes, as if she could ever know what Craig and I were working through,

Of course we aren't fucking okay.

"Never better, Michelle," I called over my shoulder, starting to walk down the overpass toward a few of the other traders, I had promised Craig I'd find him a stimpaks or two to help heal him up quicker and I intended to keep my promise. Time to break out the old haggling skills; I glanced down at my bag, trying to remember everything I had in it. Surely I had something that I could sell for a few Stims.

At the base of the overpass, there was a caravan that looked promising, fishing out some spare clips for my pistols I had stocked up, I approached. It was a young man, jet black hair and uncaring eyes, like he wanted to be anywhere but here. I noticed the sign on the packs of his Brahmin.

"Gun Runners, eh?" I mentioned, eyeing the sigil. I didn't even though those pompous asses ran their shit out this far.  
>"Yeah, need something?" He asked, voice utterly bored, with just a tinge of spite; didn't know I was interrupting something.<p>

"Yes actually, do you have any Stimpaks for sale? My friend's hurt, stung by a Cazadore queen, and he really needs to get back on his feet," The Runner just raised his eyebrow, as if he expected me to just start shoveling out caps.

"I have a few Stimpaks, but I'm not selling them for just two clips of 9mm, sorry." He turned away from me, walking back over towards his Brahmin.

"He's NCR, 1st Recon if it makes a difference!" I called after him, hoping the miserable bastard would be at least be a little bit human.

Luckily, he stopped.

"Ah fuck me, I can spare one. But that's it, I'm not even technically supposed to sell them, as the company gives them to Caravans for personal use, but…here," He pulled one of the familiar syringes out from one of the various packs situated on the Brahmin and tossed it too me. I made to toss him the clips, but he held his hands up and shook his head.

"Keep your ammo, you'll need it if your working with a 1st Recon sniper," And with that, his Caravan led itself down to the shady parts beneath the overpass.

Smiling to myself at his generosity, I ran back to the tent at full speed.

Craig was asleep on the bedroll, his head lolled back, snoring lightly, his trademark beret and glasses set beside him, his hand gently resting on his rifle, I entered as quietly as I could. I partially wondered how he fell asleep so fast, but in the wasteland, you take what rest you can get, I suppose.

"You awake?" I whispered, wanting to smack myself before the words were even out, he was fucking asleep, of course he wasn't going to answer me. Fucking think Cass, c'mon now big girl.

Sliding the cap off the needle of the Stimpak, I carefully pulled Craig's shirt up past his wound, and examined the wound quickly, the stitches held, and the purple venom that was writhing beneath his skin before was completely gone, the Stimpak would have him better by tomorrow morning, good as new, except for the scar of course.

I slid the needle into his flesh, near the wound.

I don't think I had ever once truly grasped just how strong Craig actually was till I had his fist smashing itself against my jaw. There wasn't anything broken, but it hurt like a motherfucker, my head being blasted back, my hands flying up to protect my face, the Stimpak flew from my hands and landed god knows where.

"Oh fuck, Cass!" The concern in his voice almost made me bust out laughing, because it made perfect sense to care after the fact you almost punched my lights out, the moron. I cradled my head against my bedroll, waiting for the sheer burning pain to subside, before I sat up again.

"For fucks sake, Craig, oh my god," I half-laughed, half-cried, in all honesty, I did actually find this sort of funny, but at the same time, good lord, it hurt like a bitch.

"Am I alive?" I chuckled, sitting up finally, holding my hand to a throbbing jaw; Craig was staring at me wide-eyed, silently begging for forgiveness.

"I'm…so sorry, I was having a…" Shaking his head, as if to clear something, he gave me another apologetic look, before gently brushing my hand away to look at the vivid bruise I could feel forming.

"It's fine, Craig…I should've woken you up before trying to use the Stimpak," I suddenly pulled away from him, frantically looking for the Stimpak, please god, don't let it be contaminated.

"Fuck!" I cursed, finding the little offending syringe; it had rolled into the dirt, the needle no doubt completely unusable now.

"Goddamnit!" I thrashed slightly, furious at the whole situation. That was the only one we had, given freely by a guy who would probably laugh his ass off if I tried to explain it to him so I could get another. I glanced wearily at the caps, Michelle had given me for the whiskey...

But if I used those to buy another, we would be back to square zero for getting into the Strip.

"Hold on," Craig mumbled, snatching the Stim from me, before flicking up a lighter and running the fire along the needle.

"There we go, still good," Lifting his shirt, he injected the stimulants near the wound, tossing the empty syringe off into the corner of the tent, "Well…thanks for the Stimpak," He tried, unsuccessfully, to look less completely guilt-ridden.

"Yeah, thanks for the face full of fist," I chuckled, giving him a smile. I didn't mind so much, I had taken worse…far worse. Craig's expression wouldn't let up though; he just stared at his feet, curled up in front of him, one arm wrapped slightly around his stomach, no doubt cradling the wound, giving him some support.

"God, I'm so sorry," He shook his head, staring at nothing, eyes rimming red. His tears wouldn't fall, but I knew whatever was bothering him must be some hardcore shit.

"Craig, I said it's fine," He shook his head, not listening to me.

"I hurt everyone I…"

"Everyone you…what?" I prompted, beginning to wonder what the fuck he was actually talking about, he sounded half-crazed with grief, did the poison have some mental element to it Veronica was unable to treat?

"Carla…it was me, Cass. That's what happened to her…I killed her…" Eyes clenched tight, his hands covered his face as quiet sobs racked through him.

I couldn't find anything to really say, so instead, I just leaned in and wrapped my arms around him.

* * *

><p><em>AN: The plot thickens! Kinda...  
><em>_The music for this chapter was Bulletproof by La Roux.  
>Please do leave a comment or a critique, they're why I'm here.<em>

Final Edit: August 29, 2011


	4. Fucking Perfect

_A/N: Okay, so I'm really sorry it took me longer then normal to get this chapter up, I was ill for a few days, so I had to kind of rush-write it. Anyway, I think it turned out okay, but I didn't really get much of a chance to edit it much beyond one reread, so any mistakes are completely my fault and will be handled when I get around to editing this chapter at a later date. I hope everyone likes it! _

* * *

><p>"Y'know…I wonder every single day if it was a mercy for her, or for me. I know what the Legion does to women, but I wonder sometimes if it would've been different for her. Did I kill her so she wouldn't suffer…or so I wouldn't?" Craig asked, prodding the Brahmin steak on his plate, tough and overcooked.<p>

"You can't think like that," I offer, cutting off a piece of steak before tossing it in my mouth, overcooked, tough, and cold, but Michelle had done her best.

"Why can't I? What rule says that?" He sounded so broken, so completely shattered, I just shook my head.

"There is no rule, but I speak from experience, Craig. You can't hold onto the 'what if's', it'll kill you. It almost killed me," I hated talking about this, but I knew if it would help him, then I could grit my teeth through it. He needed something to ground him, to make him remember that we still had a job to do.

"What almost killed you? What could you possibly fucking know about this, Cass?" He was defensive, raising his walls, anchoring his shields; it was not something I was looking forward to punching through.

"My mom killed herself before I was barely a real woman…I always tell everyone that she died waiting for my dad, and she did, except I tend to leave out the part about her dying by setting our house on fire and standing in the living room till she was ash." I squared my shoulders, and prepared to divulge the things that I had never really even talked about with myself.

"John Cassidy, companion to the Chosen one he used to say…my daddy - a bitch of a man who I hope day in and day out that he's rotting in hell. He was a drifter, and nothing was able to hold him down, till he met my mother. And even then, having a wife and a child wasn't enough for him, and he walked. My mom never recovered, she never said she loved me, she never said she cared for me…she drank too much, and she got physical when she was angry…" I brushed the tent flap aside, checking what time of day it was, the sun was just beginning to set.

"I still have the scar on my head from when she struck me with a liquor bottle." I mentioned numbly, I pulled my hat down from my head, my fingers itching through my hair to find that scar, still raised and slightly painful to touch even after all these years.

"So no, I guess I don't know exactly what you feel right now, but I do know that dwelling on it isn't getting us any closer to the Strip," He straightened at the mention of the Strip, ripping the steak apart with his hands, he stuffed a few pieces into his mouth, mouth quirking at the taste of the sour beef.

"You're right, as usual." He murmured after a few moments of silent chewing, "I'm not nearly as smart as I like to think I am, Craig, but this is important, I know it's not going to happen overnight, and I hope you know that too, but it'll heal…" I felt like a fucking egghead, going on and on about feelings and emotional healing, but I just had this gut feeling that this was far more important then it really looked.

Not that it looked easy to handle.

"Verlaine deserves to be avenged, just as long as we can kill as many Legion fucks along the way as humanly possible." He said around a mouthful of rancid steak.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," I laughed, pushing my plate aside, completely turned off by the idea of eating any more of that disgusting steak,

"So, we're leaving in the morning right?"

"Don't you start with me, Sniper," I growled, taking his plate away, mid-chew, "Excuse me, I wasn't done with that, and I feel better then I have since the initial injury," Craig complained, giving me one of those 'are you retarded' stares he used to give me when we first met.

"Yes, you are done with this, because I wouldn't feed this to a fucking dog much less a person, and we'll see how you're doing in the morning, if you can walk twenty feet without doubling over in agony, we can keep moving, if not, I'll buy another stimpak, let _you _inject it, and we'll stay another day," I started outside, pushing the tent flap open, "You're not my mother y'know," The NCR sniper grumbled, with an audible roll of the eyes.

"And you aren't a six year old, so stop acting like one," I called over my shoulder, heading for Michelle's booth. Michelle was smiling when I walked up, overhearing the last bit of out conversation, "Is he arguing again like this morning?" She asked, taking the plates, and wordlessly dumping the contents into the fire, more fuel.

"Worse!" I exclaimed, plopping myself down on the bench in front on her shop, putting my head on my forearms, "By the way, I'm sorry about the …" She held her hand up to stop me, smiling slightly, "It's nothing, I know the steaks today are shit, my dad for some reason thinks he can cook because he got one good goddamn review fucking four years ago!" Michelle's voice slowly got louder till she was yelling over her shoulder, probably at whoever slept in the back of the booth.

I chuckled; "Sounds like there's a story about that," She gave me a cheeky grin.

"Men, they should learn to listen to us irrevocably," Veronica sighed breathily, sitting down next to me, I paid her no mind, still kind of miffed about what happened earlier today, "I'm sorry I was a bitch this morning, I don't like to talk about it…forgive me?" I swear to god, she was cued to say that somehow.

I still turned to her, and wordlessly gave her a one armed hug, showing my forgiveness is easier then saying it,

"I don't know, if I had a boyfriend as hot as hers, I might let him take the reins every once and while," Michelle giggled, wiping a glass down with a rag, whilst simultaneously waggling her eyebrows suggestively. Veronica's nose scrunched up slightly, and she didn't say anything.

"He's not my boyfriend, actually. Just a friend," I shrugged, picking some dirt out from my under my thumbnail with my combat knife, the light flicking sound the only noise for about a minute before I looked up, confused as to why the conversation completely stopped. Both Michelle and Veronica were giving me my second 'are you retarded?' look of the day.

"What?" I asked indignantly, I was getting really fucking tired of being looked at like I was an idiot.

"He isn't your boyfriend? But you guys fight like an old married couple! Plus, you sleep in the same tent! And he's fucking hot! I'd tap that," Michelle waved her hand in the air, as if dismissing my lack of romance with Craig.

"I want you to listen very closely, Cass. I'm gay, and _I'd _tap that," Veronica enunciated, again, as if I was mentally invalid.

"Look bitch, first off, I'm not stupid, stop talking to me like I'm four, and secondly, it's really fucking complicated, Craig and I are on a mission, I guess you could say, that's why we're travelling together. I respect him and he's my friend, and I'd do anything for him…especially now…but…sex, love, romance, a relationship, fuck-buddies, whatever you want to call it, is not possible for either of us, so just drop it – both of you," I sounded more jovial then I felt, as I glared between the two giggling girls, giggling at my own expense no less.

I don't know why it bothered me that everyone else could see Craig and I as a couple, but the thought terrified me. I could never do that to him, not after Carla, and I'd bet my tits these two airheads wouldn't be laughing if they really knew the whole story.

But that would stay between Craig and I, where it belonged.

"Michelle, how about some of that whiskey I traded you," I slid ten caps towards her, over the booth, absolutely dying for a drink.

She silently knocked the caps into a bag, and poured me a tall glass of whiskey, "There you go, my dear."

I was already downing the glass before she finished her sentence, the liquid salvation warming me up from within, sending a shudder through my whole body as I accustomed to the liquor. I lowered the glass from my lips, and that was when the glass suddenly exploded, the sound of a gunshot ringing in the air like the toll of a funeral bell.

I cursed, rolling to the ground, holding my bleeding hand, shards of whiskey-drenched glass protruding from my palm and in between my knuckles. People screamed and cried, and there were several more gunshots.

I felt some of the blood hit me when Michelle took a bullet to the brain, throwing her head back, landing solidly with the thud only a dead body can make.

Veronica was on the ground next to me, for some reason, sliding leather gloves on over her fists, the knuckles were steel and slightly spiked.

"How many?" I demanded, already knowing these were Legion tactics, Fiends didn't come this far out east; and Powder Gangers weren't smart enough for a sneak attack like this. I'd bet my tits they were here for Craig and I too.

Veronica rolled away from me, to the concrete lane divider, peeking over carefully, just so slightly, before rolling back lithely.

"It's a Decanus Quad team, assassins, three grunts and a Centurion," She whispered, and I groaned, already sliding shells into my shotgun.

"They're coming from across the overpass, we can jump down there from behind Michelle's shop and attack them from the side-rear area when they get closer to this side," I wanted to shake my head, they would be getting to close to Craig, but her plan sounded better then anything I had.

Plus, Craig could take care of himself, he had his rifle.

"On three then?" I asked, sliding the final shell into my shotgun, and cocking it, the sound of the shell sliding into the barrel was comforting in a weird way. "1," Veronica nodded, "2," I replied, nodding back. "3!" We both yelled before sprinting to the other side of the overpass, and leaped…

The drop was farther then I had anticipated, leading to a very hard landing. Both Veronica and I managed to roll with it though, and we managed to scramble to our feet without either of us breaking anything. "Let's not do that again anytime soon," Veronica mumbled, before flouncing off towards the overpass wall.

"Do we have any support up above," I asked, coming to stand beside her, my gun rested at my hip, ready to blow someone's life away.

"Nope, they took out the NCR arms merchant, and the Gun Runner guy bailed when he heard the shooting, and…well…Michelle didn't make it, only one up above is your boyfr…friend that's a boy," Veronica's view of the situation looked grim, "You're Brotherhood right? Don't you have like…some tech to help us?"

"Nope, all I have are my fists,"

We were so going to die…

"How close?" Veronica peered around the corner, flexing her fists, each straining flex cracking her knuckles. "10 meters, maybe," She whispered, pulling back away from the edge.

"I say we charge their asses from the side, they won't be able to recover before you start shooting, and then I can close quickly and take out the Centurion," I gave her an incredulous look.

"Take out the Centurion? You don't have a gun," I reminded her, "I can handle him, just trust me," I bit my lip, but I didn't have the time for such choices, we had to move before they were on us.

"Now!" I shouted, and we both bolted around the corner, coming in from the east side, it was an uphill battle, but Veronica was far faster then I had given her credit for, she slammed into the Centurion at the back of the group with such force they both went tumbling down. One of the grunts yelled, and threw a spear towards me. I managed to clumsily dodge, before letting off a shot.

The burstfire collided with the Legion dick's chest, blasting a hole through him, sending his corpse flying backwards on wings made of blood and viscera. One of the other Legionaries returned fire with a submachine gun. I managed to roll just in time to avoid the spray of bullets, but even still, one of the rounds skimmed my shin, tearing a gash into me. A hiss escaped me, but I managed to recover when the Legionary discarded his spent clip.

I charged forward, and took another shot.

It was the Legionary's turn to dodge, the burstfire barely skimming the metal plating of his shin-guards. That didn't do anything to stop my momentum though, and I kept running towards him, swing my foot forward, I felt my steel-toe boot collide with the center of his face. Pushing forward, my weight and foot pushed his neck too far to the right, till a sickening crack of splintering bones was heard.

Veronica was suddenly beside me, her fists up in an offensive position, the Centurion sprawled out on the ground, dead, his head twisted at a horribly unnatural angle. "Where's the last one?" I asked, standing back to back with her, prepared for an assault for either side.

"Maybe he ran off, Legion soldiers do that when their superior die don't they?" I shook my head, that couldn't be right. None of them ran off when Verlaine died, in fact, they seemed fucking determined to finish us all off right then and there.

We stood like that, back to back, ready for anything for a good ten minutes, when we decided he had run off.

Slowly, we started off towards Michelle's booth.

And then there was that whistle, the whistle that asks for trust as you hear it. It was surreal almost in a way; I closed my eyes, grabbed the back of Veronica's hood, and dragged her to the ground with me, a single gunshot; and the thump of a body.

Veronica rolled away, hopping to her feet to see what had just happened.

I just sat up slowly, pain wracking through me. Craig was standing outside the tent, his rifle shoulder level, the barrel still had a stream of smoke from the first shot in a quite a while. I picked myself up off the hard ground and looked behind us. The Legionary had tried to use our tactics against us, come up from behind and to the side, our blind spot. He would've killed us both,

Giving Craig a nod, I mouthed 'thanks'. He just nodded and gave me a knowing smile.

"You should've come and alerted me, y'know? All I heard was gunshots, and had just enough time to get my rifle loaded and shouldered to save you," He mumbled, as we walked side by side back towards Michelle's booth. I hated what I knew I was going to see…and her father, oh my god, her father would be beside himself. Fuck me, why did this have to happen here, why couldn't they have attacked when we were mid-transit.

"Veronica and I didn't have time, plus, I couldn't risk leading them too you when you were injured; and I also just wanted to be the hero for once," I limped to one of the benches in front of the booth, and examined my leg, the shallow gash looked worse then it was, it barely bled now, but it had bled like a motherfucker at first. I lightly dabbed at the wound with a clean rag sitting on the counter.

Craig sat down beside me, snatching the rag from me and started to dab at the gash.

"Here, take a look at these, whoever you pissed off is serious about you guys dying," Veronica put a paper in my hand, and hopped over the counter to examine Michelle. She lightly prodded for a pulse but everyone knew it was fruitless. She was gone. Respectfully, Veronica closed the girl's eyes, another victim of a Legion hit-squad.

"It seems someone dies wherever we go," I mumbled, staring at Michelle's lifeless body, wincing when Craig pressed to hard at the edge of the gash, "Sorry," said Craig, wiping away the small trickle of blood.

Numbly, I unfolded the piece of paper Veronica gave me, and steeled myself for an onslaught of rambling bullshit.

"Oh, well…that's just fucking great!" I almost shrieked, crumpling the paper back up, and casting it away from me, toward the fire still burning under the grate Michelle had been using to cook on, providing the only light we could see by as the sun was sinking fast down the horizon.

It'd be pitch black out here in 10 minutes, tops.

"What'd it say?" Craig asked, not looking up, he was slowly heating a metal bar in the cooking fire, reaching his long, toned arms across the counter.

"That you are wanted dead or alive, and that I'm just wanted, no doubt for slavery – what the fuck do you think you're doing with that," I began to pull away as I watched the metal slowly beginning to turn an orangey color, ripe with heat. Craig barely held it with his fingers, wrapped in the rag he cleaned the gash with.

"Cauterizing the wound on your leg, it may be shallow, but it's wide, and it'll fester and putrefy if we let you walk around to much on it, especially with all the dust." He pulled the bar from the flame, and pushed my jeans up, over the wound.

"Oh my god," I moaned, leaning my head back and scrunching my eyes shut.

I heard the hiss of the superheated metal on my skin before I felt the pain. It shot through me, racing up my leg, pulverizing my hip, ripping a cry of pain out of me. The metal moved slowly over the whole of the cut, and I screamed a variety of curses.

And at last, Craig pulled the metal away and tossed it away from us.

I had to sit back, just realizing I had lurched off the bench, my jaw ached from how hard I had clenched.

"Happy with your little revenge, you cruel dick," I swore at Craig, but I didn't really mean it and he knew I didn't. He patted my thigh in a friendly manner, but allowed me to leave my foot where it was, resting on his lap. I had a brief notion to kick him right in the balls, but then he would have to do something to get me back and then I would react, and it would become a vicious circle.

The buck stops with me.

"Huh? Was' all the yelln'" A older man stumbled out from one of the hollowed out trailers behind the little slop and shop.

"Hi, Mr. Ker…" Veronica said, her voice sad and slightly fearing what she would have to tell him. I just rolled my eyes, the guns, the screams of dying Legionaries, the shouting, no – none of that woke him up, but my girlish cries of pain at having my fucking leg melted back together does the trick – naturally.

"Where's Michelle? Michelle!" The man started to yell, alcohol fueled anger began to color his cheeks as he stumbled drunkenly toward the store.

"Don't let him see her," I whispered to Veronica. That was all we needed was a drunk and grieving father. I had liked Michelle, but this stuff happens, especially with the Legion everywhere like they are these days.

Veronica ran up to him and pushed him backwards, as he suddenly began to sober.

"What's wrong, Veronica? Where's Michelle, let me by!" He roared, and tried to push the smaller Brotherhood girl aside, but she held her ground and kept pushing him backwards.

"Look, I'm sorry, Mr. Ker. Legion attacked while you were…asleep…Michelle didn't make it." The man fell to his knees, weeping and crying, begging to god for forgiveness at not protecting his daughter. He had to be kidding.

"Are you fucking kidding me, I know men like you…fuck, I'm the daughter of one. You don't care; all you care about is the fucking bottle! Don't you dare act all repentant now!" I pulled away from Craig and stood up roughly, put too much pressure on my hurt leg, and winced and hissed as the pain reminded me to be careful.

He didn't say anything, just sat there…weeping.

I turned back to Craig.

"Looks like you're getting what you wanted. We bury Michelle, we get our shit together and we leave for the Strip tonight," He was nodding before I finished. I sat back down, and grabbed the shattered glass, the last thing Michelle had touched. The top of the cup was shattered, but there was just a little bit of whiskey left in the bottom. I slung it back, and swallowed the whiskey clean, and tossed the cup over my shoulder.

"Fuck me," I sighed after a moment, and got to work.

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><p><em>AN: Woot! Finally! This chapter was a real bitch to write, ugh, I'm glad it's over.  
>Music for this chapter was <em>Fucking Perfect by P!NK.  
><em>Please do leave a comment or a critique, they're why I'm here. Constructive criticism is love!<em>

Final Edit: August 29, 2011


	5. In The End

_A/N: Okay everyone, good news! This chapter isn't completely horrible! I don't know why, but I really, really, really love this chapter for some reason, probably because I think it has everything I wanted in it.  
>Now, just so everyone knows, this will probably be the last chapter till Saturday<strong><span> probably<span>**, this is because I'm working on a short-story for the magazine 'Weird Tales', and I really want it to be epic, so wish me luck!_

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><p>I swear to god, the sun was trying to kill us. Each step either Craig or I took seemed to take forever, exhaustion colored our muscles, and my skin was practically gushing sweat. The only respite we were given was the occasional gust of wind carrying mists rising off of the river.<p>

But the walls of Vegas could be seen, and that in itself was its own reward. Soon, revenge would be ours, and I could plant my boot into Benny's motherfucking face.

"That's McCarran," Craig said, jerking his head off towards the building off in the distance.

"I know…and? Did you need to stop by or something," I asked, each word was followed by a gasp for breath. Talking was taking too much fucking energy, hell, thinking was tiring right now. My lids burned with the heaviness of sleep deprivation.

"Well, we still haven't exactly figured out how to get into Vegas. Veronica gave us what little money she could, before we left the 188, but we're still short almost 300 caps, and that's just for this guy you said could help get us in, if whatever he has planned fails, we're fucked." I had stop and pinch the bridge of my nose to keep myself from straight-up attacking Craig. This was the last discussion I needed right now.

"And then, once we're in the Tops, how're we supposed to find – "

"Would you please shut the fuck up?" I cut him off, screaming at him, my fists clenched so tightly I think I could feel my fingernails breaking the skin of my palm. I practically shook with rage, vibrating where I stood. Stress oozed out of me, and I hoped that Craig could tell I was sorry, but…somehow not.

I guess I just hoped he understood where I was coming from.

He didn't say anything else though; he just stood there, his arms crossed, his jaw set, and his eyes unreadable behind those sunglasses of his.

"Look, fuck…I'm sorry. It's just – can we get there alive first, before we start worrying about that, I mean c'mon. Can't we just take it one step at a time?" My words relaxed myself more then they seemed to relax him. I felt my fists uncurl, and the muscles in my back and arms go lax, painfully so.

"No, we can't. Maybe that's how you do things, but that's not how NCR does it, that's not how 1st recon did it, and it's for sure as fuck not how I do it. We need a goddamned plan, if we go in there half-cocked; there is every chance we'll end up dead, got it?" Craig started to walk before I had a chance to respond, not that I had much to say, his words stung slightly, but I shrugged it off, we were both sweaty and walking through heat to rival the devils cock-hole.

We walked in silence for a while, each step crunching the dirt beneath our feet; the absolute hopeless silence was driving me insane. I stopped walking after another five minutes, and waited for him to realize I had.

He turned back to me, an unreadable look on his face.

I just shrugged my arms gracelessly.

"Are you mad at me about something?" I wondered, after just staring at him for a minute or so.

He gave a heavy sigh, "No, I'm not. I'm sorry, it's just…my chest aches, it's hot, and I've been thinking about Carla probably more then I should. Not a very good combination when mixed together." He shrugged like I did, and the full weight of how fucked up we both were settled on me.

"Yeah, my leg's been killing me," I glanced down at the aforementioned limb. Veronica had bandaged it after Craig had cleaned the gash for me, but it still hurt to put practically any weight on it, and the past – what had it been? 16 hours walking hadn't been the smartest thing to do to it.

"Wanna make camp for the day, and we can pick up walking again when the sun goes down and it gets a bit cooler?" Craig asked, his hand kneading the area on his chest where the wound was, no doubt his muscles tightened up there, painfully so, I'm sure.

"Actually…" I turned, and put a hand to the brim of my hat to shadow my eyes just a bit more so I could see.

"Way over there is the Boulder Beach Campground, I know about it because I had to stay there once when I was still running my caravan up this way. It has an abandoned trailer there, we could use that for shelter, and I'd really like to go for a swim in the river. Wouldn't you?" Craig had his arms crossed again, his face slightly skeptical.

"Oh c'mon – the nice cool water, the water would probably help your chest, swimming would relax our muscles, we wouldn't be as sweaty or grimy, and we'd smell better…" I listed off the pros of going for a swim one by one, as seductively as possible, just to make the whole idea seem more appealing.

He gave a heavy sigh, but nonetheless, started walking towards the campground, "This'll end badly,"

* * *

><p>I was already stripping when we hit the campground; I tossed my duffel into the open trailer haphazardly, as I pulled my clothes off. I ripped my shirt off practically, and jeans went next along with my boots, striding in my underwear, I headed straight for the crystal clear water.<p>

"Uhh bandages!" Craig called from behind me, reminding me of my wrapped up leg.

"You'll redress them for me! And I'll redress yours, now get in here!" I called over my shoulder, whilst wading into the cool water.

From the second the water touched my skin, I was grinning in relief. I waded out into a deeper part and dunked myself under and it was almost orgasmic in its perfection. The sweat and stress of the day seemed to just come right off. I could feel the coolness seep into me, like little tendrils, touching my bones. I let out a sort of sigh which bubbled to the surface with me following it.

I broke the surface and swung my head around, laughing for the first time in what felt like forever.

Craig was just standing on the beach, watching me, a smile slightly quirked his lips, I tilted my head.

"Aren't you coming in?" I asked, slowly kicking my feet to keep me afloat in the gorgeous water.

"Uhh…yeah…I guess," The smile was gone, and he looked down to his feet, as if some answer for whatever he was thinking about was lying there.

"What is it?" I asked, padding over to the shallower water, so I could at least stand somewhat.

"It's not that I can't swim or anything, I just don't do so great with deep water. I nearly drowned when I was kid, it's nothing…just makes me kinda hesitant." He admitted, and I nodded in understanding.

"It feels great though," I offered, trying to sway him. He gave me another one of those quirked smiles, before he tugged the shirt Veronica had given him over his head, and shucked his pants off, till he was standing in his underwear. He started for the water, but I held my hand up.

"What?" He asked, and I smiled mischievously, "The beret…" I grinned. It was a rare sight to see him without his clothes on; I figured I might as well try for the beret too. "No, it's my trademark, and besides, you didn't take your necklace off." He tried to sound indignant, but mostly just ended up sounding whiny.

"I hardly consider my pendant on the same level as your beret," I argued, to which he shook his head, "Same level, if not higher," I rubbed my chin as if I was one of those Strip bosses trying to make a deal, "It seems we are at an impasse," I concluded, "It seems we are," He added with an affirmative nod of his head.

"How about, you come in, and we both take off our respective trademarks, and the necklace is put in the beret, and then tossed onto the sand?" It seemed the best idea to me.

Craig just started to chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

"This is so stupid," With that he tossed his beret off and stepped in. I backstroked out a bit farther, and he swam out to me, and we both shared a collective sigh.

"It feels awesome, doesn't it?" I asked, giving him an 'I told you so' smile.

He just nodded and laid out on his back, floating there, his eyes closed in simple relief. I did as he did, and stretched out, floating; letting the sun kiss me, and the water cool me.

There was no telling how long we stayed like that, but we both revolved between awake and semi-sleep, and it was perfect to just rest like that…so very perfect.

And then I felt a scaly hand clamp painfully hard down on my ankle and drag me under.

My scream of 'fuck' was muffled by water being harshly flushed through my nose and my mouth. I thrashed and kicked, and my foot connected with _something_, I wasn't sure what, but the hand let go, and I gave a mighty lunge back above the water. I screamed, but Craig was already on the beach, rifle in hand. A roar of pain erupted from me when the sharp agony of the Lakelurk's claws dug into my calf, and dragged me back under.

I struggled against the monster, but it seemed to have far more strength then I, its vice-like grip on my ankle straining the very bones. I kicked at the creatures head, and my foot connected, but the beast was undeterred. It dragged me farther and farther down into the crevasse at the bottom of the riverbed.

The fucker was going to drown me…

My lungs burned with the need for air, and I wanted to scream for help, but I knew that would only speed my demise. There wasn't any way Craig could shoot the thing this far down. It was impossible.

He would be counting for me to break free somehow, and to swim to the surface, so he could get a clear shot. I didn't have that ability.

He was traumatized by deep water – which meant no rescue.

I began to struggle and thrash harder against the creature, with the realization that I was going to die.

It was getting harder to see, but I couldn't seem to be able to tell if that was because of my blood clouding the water red, or the lack of oxygen to my brain. Either way, it wasn't looking good.

Another kick, but I hit nothing, and my muscles were beginning to seize up and tense painfully. A shape in the water next to me, swimming far too fast to be a rescue; I thrashed with my arms towards it, but I hit nothing again. Above me, the shape swam, before it dived down, it's clawed, vicious fist pounding into my stomach. It knocked the wind out of me, and the last bits of breath I had in me whooshed out in a flurry of bubbles. Salt water, freezing and black rushed in my lungs, through my nose and throat, burning and making it far too hard to keep thinking.

The edges of my vision were blurring beyond comprehension, and the strangest thing, I felt cheated. Whenever I had been regaled with tales of near-death, the tale-spinner had always said they saw their life flash before their eyes. I saw nothing of my life; I only wished that I had been given more time. I wanted so, so bad to see Benny die, to avenge the only person on this fucked up earth who gave two shits.

And then Craig came into view, not so much that I really saw him, it wasn't that kind of sight, more like, I had the intrinsic feeling that he was there. And I wished for nothing more then for him to give me that quirky smile again,

The water was displaced and black ichor streamed out around me, mixing with my blood. There was some sort of…I don't know rightly, I guess it was sound, but at the same time, it wasn't. It was too high, but it sounded like a scream. Another displacement and I blearily stared around in the clouded water, trying to see what was happening, but there was nothing. Another far-too high scream, more ichor; an arm wrapped itself around my middle, and I was pulled from the cloud of blood.

A thin stream of blood flowed from the wounds on my leg, making a little trail as I ascended with my captor. I was far too gone to fight back, the darkness was encroaching, I was almost there. I don't rightly remember when I had made peace with the fact that I was practically dead, but I guess I had, because I felt no fear.

We broke the surface.

And yet, I couldn't seem to breathe, I tried in vain to inhale, before the monster that no doubt had me dragged me under again. But there was nothing, my lungs were too full…more blackness.

I was thrown roughly onto the sandy beach, which forced some of the water out of my lungs, but not nearly enough, I still couldn't see, I stretched my arms out, trying to feel for help. Hands on my chest, they pushed in, and more gouts of water came racing up, and burst out from my nose and mouth. I pushed whoever it was away, and rolled to the side, where more torrents of salt-water gushed out of me.

Hot tears slithered down my cheeks at the pain, the sheer burning torture of the salt-water rubbing my throat raw, it was like sand-paper being taken to my windpipe.

Finally, the water stopped gushing out of my face, and I rolled onto my back limply. Craig was kneeling next to me, a worried look etched on his face. How silly of me to think it was someone else then him that rescued me.

"I told you this was a bad idea," He chided lightly, his own breathing heavy.

"Fuck you," I croaked weakly, my throat hurt far too much to try and talk. The darkness had dissipated, exhaustion taking its place quite happily. And without any further interaction, I gave into the exhaustion and unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>The smell of roasting fish was the first thing I noticed; I hadn't bothered to open my eyes yet. I just laid there, listening to the soft sounds of the fire crackling, Craig's soft whistle, the smell of the cooking meat, the sizzle and pop of the grease sliding off the fish and landing in the flames they were cooking on.<p>

"I know you're awake, Cass." Craig spoke up after a few moments, I opened one eye. He was sitting across a cooking fire, fully clothed of course, his trademark beret sitting back on his head, his rifle leaning against his leg. He was staring at me.

"How did you know?" I asked, sitting up. Craig had moved me; I remember I was down on the sand when I lost it. Now, I was on one of the old mattresses from the abandoned camper, a blanket tossed over me, my clothes next to the mattress. I pulled the blanket up around my bare shoulders, somewhat in modesty, and somewhat for the chill. But mostly for the chill, I wasn't one to typically give a fuck about modesty.

"You breathe differently when you're asleep. I knew you were awake when your chest started to move faster," He admitted, turning the spit on which four fish roasted.

"Craig Boone! Where you staring at my chest while I was asleep?" I pretended to act appalled, but he just gave me a quirky grin.

"You wish," He chuckled.

"You're point?" I shot back which both made us laugh for a second.

As he pulled the fish off the fire, I took my necklace, which lay on top of the pile of clothes, and re-laced it around my neck, lightly brushing my thumb over the ceramic rose.

"I don't remember taking this off…" I mused, taking the skewered fish Craig held out to me.

"It came off when you were attacked; I had to go back for it." I took a small bite of the fish and groaned at the taste of actually good food. It seemed like it was so long since a good meal had been enjoyed between us.

"I knew you would freak if you woke up and it was gone," He added, taking a healthy bite out of his fish.

"Thanks…seriously." I smiled, pulling a piece off the skewer and popping it into my mouth. It was touching to me in a weird way that he actually cared enough to listen when I had told him the necklace was the last thing I had of my dad, despite how much I wished I could forget my father.

"So, what the fuck happened?" I threw my arms up dramatically once I had thought about it.

"Lakelurks, normally they don't come down this far from the actual lake, but something is driving them this way, I think. Most likely Caesar's camp, the sounds, smells, lights…it's scaring them down towards the other end of the Colorado, I've spotted some on the other side of the shore, headed that way, but I guess, some were swimming, and saw you floating there, and they probably thought you were dead from the way your were floating. Normally they attack using their screams, but this one physically grabbed you, hence the bandage," He nodded towards my leg, and I felt along my calf.

Sure enough, more bandages were wrapped around my flesh.

"How bad was it?" I asked.

"You almost drowned; the wounds on your leg aren't bad. A trader came through a few hours ago, and I got a Stimpak and injected you, you'll be fine in another hour or so." Craig told me, plucking another fish from the fire and tearing into it.

"You didn't use any of our caps, did you?" I would've rather had walked with a limp then spend any more money.

"Nope, I traded him some of the fish I caught." I breathed a sigh of relief.

We ate in silence for a few minutes after that, and when we were done, I stood to get dressed.

"Thanks Craig, I mean it. I know…I was deep down there – so thanks for helping me." I said lamely, shucking on my jeans. That had sounded so much better in my head…

"You are all I have, Cass…I wasn't going to let that – phobia of deep water get you killed." He answered, standing up, and slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

I experimentally put weight on each of my legs, and neither started to scream in pain which I took as a great blessing. At least the stimulants had done their job.

"So, you ready to keep moving?" Craig asked, coming over to stand beside me, while I worked my hair back into its bun.

"Don't do that," He slapped my hand away from my hair and I gave him a questioning glare.

"Why? I hate having my hair in my face," I complained, placing a hand on my hip in a very bitchy 'I will get my way' manner.

Craig just started to walk past me with a shrug, but I could've sworn I heard him mumble something about my hair being down was pretty.

Deciding I had simply heard him wrong, I hefted my duffel onto my shoulder, my shotgun over the other, and holstered both my pistols. And with that, I started after him – leaving my hair down.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Woot! Another chapter down and out! I really hope everyone loves this chapter as much as I loved writing it!  
>Music for this chapter was <em>In The End by Linkin Park.  
><em>As always; comments, questions, critiques are all loved and cherished. Constructive Criticism is love!<em>

Final Edit: August 29, 2011


	6. World In Flames

_A/n: Oh my gosh, guys, this is easily my new favorite chapter ever! I just find it so delicious, especially the ending. Anyway, I really hope you guys like the chapter, and are liking the story overall, I love looking at my traffic stats and seeing how many people are reading the story consistently, you guys mean the world to me!  
>Also, just a little warning, the ending is sort of...shall we say 'risqué'...it gets kind of adult, but I think you'll all be very surprised.<em>

* * *

><p>It was liked we were being steamed alive, and I absolutely hated it. Every step felt like swimming, and my clothes had been drenched with sweat. A dark 'v' of sweat covered most of Craig's chest, but he was a soldier and taking this fucking humidity in stride, toughing it out, whereas I just wanted to die.<p>

We were going at a slower pace now, exhaustion was such a pervasive force, and I was getting tired of feeling tired.

We had made good time though, even though it seemed every step closer to Vegas seemed to push the city that much farther away.

"How're you holding up," Craig called behind his shoulder, stopping for a minute to catch our breath, and the thick wet air did little to help us breathe any better.

"Not so great…you?" I wanted to brush it off like he was doing, but I was too miserable for that. Something had to be done.

"Ugh – same," He admitted, straining his neck to the right and several cracks ran down his spine.

"We've been walking for almost twenty-four hours straight; we had…what…three hours at the Boulder Campground…we need to get some actual rest, Craig." I hated sounding so weak, especially with Vegas in sight. Even from here, I could see the edge of the tallest building of the Tops peeking over the reinforced walls. I couldn't have wished any harder then at that moment to just be able to pull the goddamned building down.

"Camp Golf…" Craig said simply, his hands resting on his knees, both of us were breathing heavily, but neither of us could seem to get enough actual air. It was far more exhausting then walking.

"It's NCR, neither of us is considered NCR anymore…" I wanted to jump at the opportunity, but I knew it wouldn't fly.

"Camp Golf is okay, Cass…I was stationed there, they'd remember me, it'll work." Craig argued back.

"Fine…where the fuck is this place?" I held up my hands dramatically and spun around slightly, like it could be anywhere. It was a childish, sarcastic thing to do, but I didn't care, I personally thought this idea was full of shit. If we weren't shot on sight, we'd probably get hung up by all the goddamn paperwork, just like the Outpost.

"Could you tone down the negativity, Cass? Just a hair…" Craig actually yelled, spinning on me, and I actually took a step back. He rarely ever actually raised his voice in true anger. The lines in his face where set in and he was clearly gritting his teeth behind his lips. For a second, a flash of my father seemed to run over the glare coming off of his shades.

"I'm trying my best, okay…" He added, after a few seconds, a bit calmer.

I didn't say anything, shamed like a scolded child.

"I know…I'm sorry," I tried my best to salvage the situation, "I'm just…overheated, and I smell like a Brahmin's ass, and…" I was at a loss for another excuse, "Fuck it, I'll say it, I'm hormonal and probably going through early menopause." Craig actually started to laugh, and I let out the proverbial breath I had been holding. Crisis avoided.

"Do you actually know what menopause is?" Craig asked after a minute of hilarity at my expense.

"My mother gave me a very vague…actually no…my mother was dead before I had even gotten my first period, and she rarely ever talked with me about womanly stuff and why the hell am I telling you this, you weirdo." I had begun to reminisce before I realized just what Craig was asking.

"Menopause is basically when you can't have kids anymore, and secondly, I'm not a weirdo, Carla had thought she was going through it before…before she got pregnant ironically. She told me all the stuff I never wished to know," Craig's voice faltered when he got to her name, but he managed to tell everything else.

"Oh well then, I can't be, I had a pregnancy scare just before leaving with Verlaine," I said completely deadpan, and Craig's brow rose before a few more laughs escaped both of us…second crisis averted, I was getting good at this.

"C'mon, Golf is this way," Craig motioned with his hand after we had both finished chuckling, and slowly; we started off in that general direction.

* * *

><p>We were ushered into the main resort building by armed guards naturally. They hadn't shot us on sight, but they had put bullets into the ground before our feet. Now, I had never been a huge fan of NCR, they were better then Legion, but this was ridiculous.<p>

"He's fucking 1st Recon! Why can't you just set us up in a tent?" I yelled, slung over the shoulder of a muscle bound Ranger. I struggled with how much wiggle room I had, but I probably just looked more then pathetic, especially with Craig walking, hands untied, right beside said Ranger, chuckling the whole way.

"I wouldn't be laughing at you," I shot at him which just caused him to laugh more.

"All they wanted was to show us into the building Cass…and then you have to start throwing punches…"

"So they bind me up and carry me in like I'm a slab of Brahmin?" I struggled harder against the Ranger but I wasn't going anywhere under his fucking 2000 pound arm.  
>"Let me go!" I tried kicking, but my feet were just bouncing harmlessly off the guy's armor.<p>

I was dropped unceremoniously into a chair, and told to wait here in a gruff voice, before the Ranger disappeared out the office door.

Craig kneeled in front of me, his combat knife in his hand.

"Promise not to assault anyone else, you psycho, and I'll cut you free." He was having way too much fun with this; his eyes had that dangerous twinkle in them, with his shades hanging off the edge of his neckline. That quirky smile sat on his face.

"Give. Me. The. Knife." I enunciated very clearly.

"Promise first." He held the blade away from me with his other arm.

"Oh my god, fine – I solemnly swear that I won't deck the next dick that points a fucking Anti-Materiel rifle at my _face_." Craig gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes, but nonetheless, he slipped the blade between the bonds and cut them apart in one tug. The ropes fell away and I rubbed my wrists absently, pushing some feeling back into them, these NCR guys really know to tie someone up.

Craig took the seat next to me, just as a weathered old man walked into the office, a stack of papers under his arm with a piece of paper in front of his face, he sat down at his desk without even sparing us a glance. Awkwardly, he tossed the papers down and tossed the one he was reading aside to give us his full attention.

"I'm Chief Hanlon, would one of you like to tell me why a Ranger just informed me that one of you bites." I rolled my eyes.

"Sir, I'm not sure if you remember me, I was stationed here a little more then a year ago with 1st Recon, my names…" Craig was cut off.

"Craig Boone, 1st Recon Sniper, you were at the Bittersprings incident, I remember. What is it you needed? As far as I remember you were discharged." It was strange in a way, this guy had such a warm face, like the grandfather you never had, but he talked with such a brisk, cold voice.

But the mention of Bittersprings caught my ear.

The refugee camp? What incident happened there?

"You see Sir, I'm escorting this fine lady across the Mojave…she's…a disturbed girl who used to work at Gomorrah, and I'm just trying to help her get back home to Freeside, and due to recent weather, and since we have both suffered wounds, I was hoping to be allowed to rest here for a day or so, Sir." Wait…what? Suddenly I'm a hooker? What the fuck?

_What the fuck?_

The Chief gave me a piercing look, one that suddenly thought it could see all my sexual sins and wicked immorality…even though I had none.

Well…maybe a little, but I was no hooker.

_Goddamn you, Craig. _

"I believe we can help you out, son. We have one room here in this building you can have the use of. It was one of the Ranger's quarters, but he was killed a few days ago. It's yours for the time being." The Chief made to get up and leave, but Craig was faster and stood.

"Sir, we'd be happy just bedding down in one of the trooper tents," I wanted to slap Craig senseless. Here this guy was, giving us a nice room, and he tries to get us stuck with a group of troopers, with no privacy and 5 o'clock drill runs.

"Half those men haven't seen a woman who isn't part of the force in months, Soldier, putting a Gomorrah girl out there would just cause trouble for everyone involved. No, you'll stay in the room I said. The Mess is open 24/7 and each room is allowed _one _5 minute shower every day. Dismissed." And with that, Chief Hanlon walked out the door and down the hall.

"What the hell," I launched myself to my feet and pushed Craig back by his shoulder.

"You told him I'm a whore…what the fuck? Where the? What the? Why the?" I was at an absolute loss for words, anger and most importantly, sheer embarrassment was just pouring out of me.

"Well, I had to think fast. We can't exactly tell anyone we're on our way to Vegas to murder someone!" Craig pushed me back somewhat, albeit far gentler then I had been with him.

"You couldn't have come up with a better lie then that! He thinks I'm a fucking prostitute, I know you probably don't give a shit, but that's pretty fucking embarrassing, Craig." I shot back, my fists curled up into tight little balls, ready to pound someone's face in.

"Okay then, what would've been better?" Craig crossed his arms, the way he does when he himself is about to loose it. What a pair we were?

"I don't know…tell him I was your wife or…" Craig's sudden deflation, his head drooping a bit, and his eyes looking for anywhere but my face caught my attention and I realized with horror what I'd just said.

"Or…something else…" I finished lamely.

Craig just kept his eyes downcast.

I lightly touched his shoulder, shame overcoming me completely.

"I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean it like that," I tried to reconcile and thankfully, Craig started to nod and gave me one of those smiles that can melt anyone's heart.

"I know, um…okay, let's grab our stuff and find our room. I'm thrashed,"

I nodded meekly in agreement, grabbed my duffel the Ranger had carelessly tossed onto the ground and started up the stairs at the end of the hall with Craig in tow.

* * *

><p>It was easy enough to find our room…sort of. We had to check every door down the hallway, and we had deduced that the one that wasn't locked with a fucking deadbolt was ours.<p>

"Swanky," I giggled with a sarcastic twang in my voice, while I looked around the room. In actuality, it was a pretty nice room; there was a nice big table, a soft, Bighorner hide rug…and fucking naturally.

One queen sized bed.

I let out a lazy stream of air between my lips while I looked at the bed in utter defeat.

"I'll sleep on the floor," I acquitted, tossing my duffel down next to the bed.

"Like hell you are." Craig came in beside me, and tossed his bag down on the far side of the bed.

"Craig, you're the one with the chest injury, you need the bed," I argued, crossing my arms over my chest in defiance.

"That's not fair…we can…we'll put a pillow between us." Craig shot back, picking up said pillow and slamming it down in the center of the bed. I couldn't come up with a counter to man-logic.

"Okay, Mr. Problem-solver, solve this one. 5 minutes, one shower." I smirked, knowing he'd never be able to come up with a feasible not-awkward solution.

"We stand back to back under the water."

_Fuck_.

"Fine…" I gave in, but mostly for want of the promised shower; to actually get clean and stay that way…what a fucking concept.

We both made our way into the bathroom, and Craig flipped on the light. I stumbled back laughing slightly. The shower was barely big enough for a single person, let alone too.

"Oh my god…this is going to be one of two things…completely awkward and retarded or fucking epic!" This was too perfect, if we didn't end up a mass of flailing naked limbs on the floor, I would take a bite out of my hat.

"Where the… got it!" Craig pulled out a bar of clear soap from one of the various drawers stacked in the corner. And then; standing back to back, we started to strip. I was out of my clothes in record time, partly because I had done this before, but Craig naturally was having some sort of issue with his zipper.

"Are you kidding me? I'm standing here butt-ass naked, and you can't get your zipper down?" It was unbelievable; luck sure was a vindictive bitch tonight wasn't she.

"It's stuck…goddamnit, there!" I almost wanted to give him a round of applause. The sound of his heavy combat pants hitting the floor, his shirt and beret came second, and I could see out of the corner of my eye, his arm reach into the shower and flip it on. Like a retarded mad dash, we both hopped into the fucking _freezing _spray.

I hissed in a sort of 'sweet relief' way when the frigid water hit me. The water raced down my back, and soaked through my hair and I moaned lightly. I could literally feel the dried sweat just wash right off of me.

"Cass, c'mon, we don't have time to just stand under it." Always with time, how're we're always late, or loosing time. Just shut up and enjoy it.

Nevertheless, the started the run my hands up and down my arms, trying to scrub some of the grime off. I was keenly aware of just how close a very nude Craig was, and I had the most perverted desire to squeeze his ass for fun, but I chose not too…for some reason…

"Here, soap!" Craig tossed the soap over his shoulder, but I unfortunately wasn't prepared, and the bar slipped straight through my fingers and tumbled to the floor.

"Did what I think happen just happen?" Craig asked blandly, and I nodded slightly, even though he couldn't see it. I was too busy biting down on my fist to keep from busting out laughing to give him a vocal response.

"Okay, okay…I'm gonna try to reach down and grab it, if you move, we're both going down, Craig." I slowly began to lower my body, becoming more and more aware in how tight the quarters we were in actually were.

I reached between my legs and felt along the bottom of the claw-foot tub, till I felt the soap bar between my fingers.

"Got it!" I exclaimed, and pulled it back up into view. I stood as slowly as I went down and quickly lathered up the bar before scrubbing myself down a bit more forcefully. It was actually kind of disgusting how the soapy water was black when it drizzled off my body. And I had just gone swimming too…

"You done?" Craig asked, and I affirmed, "Yep, just gotta rinse," And of course, as I said this, the bar slipped from my grasp, and somehow, even though I don't actually remember consciously moving my foot, though I may have done it just to get the result.

I slipped on the bar and bashed into Craig, and like I predicted, we both went down…hard.

I don't quite know how it ended up with me on top of Craig's back, laughing my ass off, but it did. The icy water sprayed down on us both, while we both laughed at the sheer idiocy of the situation.

"Really?" Craig tried in vain to complain, but mostly just ended up laughing along with me. Suddenly, the water cut out and we both groaned.

"Oh well," At this point, I no longer cared if he saw my ass, and I hopped out of the tub, grabbed my towel and headed back into the actual room. I dried off quickly, and threw on the spare pair of underwear I had in my duffel, but realized I had nothing else to wear, my actual clothes were in desperate need of a wash, and there wasn't a way in hell I was putting those back on right after a shower.

"Craig, do you have any extra clothes I can borrow?" I yelled, eyeing his duffel.

"Uhh…yeah, I do! Veronica tossed some white shirts and a pair or two of jeans in my duffel, go ahead!" He called from the bathroom, and I tore into his duffel, searching for the promised clothing.

Sure enough, hair-brained Veronica had packed like 8 shirts, but only 3 pairs of jeans.

"Can't she count," I mumbled as I pulled on a shirt and a pair of jeans.

"You decent?" Craig called again from the bathroom.

"I'm never decent, but I'm dressed!" I yelled back, pulling out a shirt and pair of jeans for him as well.

The clothing was obviously meant for someone of Craig's size and stature. I was practically drowning in the shirt.

I plopped down on my side of the bed and Craig walked past me, in nothing but the towel around his waist, as he walked by my side, I gave into my perverted side and I stared at his ass, before he rounded the bed, I turned back to pulling on my boots.

"Hurry up and get dressed, I wanna get down to the Messhall, eat and then sleep for about a month." I hurried Craig along, while I ran over to the dresser, grabbed my pack of smokes and lit a cigarette, sighing when I breathed the delicious smoke in.

"Since when do you smoke?" Craig asked, when he walked by me towards the door, he snatched the cigarette from my fingers and took a drag himself.

"Since forever…I just don't smoke when I'm on the move because I feel like wasteland critters will follow the smell of the smoke. I saw that happen once actually," I snatched the cigarette back, "I was running my caravan up north, and the smoke kept attracting Rad and Bark scorpions. Although, it scares the fuck out of Cazadors, they hate cigarette smoke." Craig listened, snatching the smoke back out of my fingers and taking another drag off it.

"Would you like one of your own, before you smoke the rest of mine?" I asked, pulling the pack and lighter out of my pocket while I headed for the door.

"Nah, I'll keep yours, and you can light yourself another one." He chuckled, and I rolled my eyes while I popped the cancer-stick into my mouth and lit up.

"I thought you didn't like to smoke? You've told me before not to smoke, haven't you?" I asked, heading down the stairs in the resort building, inhaling a drag off the cigarette that hung out of my mouth. I bet I sure looked real attractive and hooker like, wearing men's clothing with a big ol' cigarette hanging out of my mouth.

"Not me, might've been Verlaine though, she hated it when you even so much as took a sip of whiskey." I stopped and turned to him, my eyebrow's furrowed.

"Really?" He just nodded in affirmation.

I just shrugged, surprisingly even to myself. But at the same time, I also smiled to myself. It was getting easier to hear her name…

* * *

><p>The Mess-hall was just that, an absolute fucking mess. Dirty plates were stacked up on every table, bunches of people all crowded around the tables, either eating, or laughing, or playing some sort of game, or all three. Craig and I sat mostly off by ourselves, at one of the smaller tables in the corner.<p>

Several of the men were leering at me, which I thought was pretty ridiculous, especially because I wasn't an actual hooker, and if I'm honest with myself, I'm not even that pretty like some of those dames from the Strip. It was just the lustful gazes of sex-starved men and that's what made me slightly uncomfortable.

I lightly picked at my gecko burger, mostly just eating the actual burger. I needed the protein, not the thick, heavy, grainy bread that was far too hard to swallow with the single bottle of water they give you. Craig however was used to this, as he was eating normally.

Deciding I had had enough of the burger, I pushed it aside on the plate and grabbed my pack of cigarettes.

"I'm going out for a smoke; meet me when you're done. No rush. I'll be out back around the tent." Craig nodded in assent to me, and I headed outside, lighting up my smoke. I headed around back behind the tent like I said, taking long, lazy drags off my cigarette. That's when I heard the drunken laughter of a couple of soldiers, but paid no mind to it.

When I heard them exclaim, "There's that bitch from Gomorrah," I turned my head to look at who was basically cat-calling me. Three guys sidled up, each trying to be as sexy as possible, but the drunken wobble kind of threw that out the proverbial window.

"Hey girlie…wanna come show us how things are done on the Strip?" One of them slurred, his eyes leering at my face first and then my tits second.

"Sorry, sweetie…you couldn't afford me…" I laughed and turned away again, taking another heavy drag off my cigarette. The muscles in my arms were corded though, tensed and ready. I knew exactly where this was going to go if they didn't walk away right now.

A rough hand grabbed the back of my hair, and pulled me back, and I almost wanted to roll my eyes at the sheer cliché this guy was. I turned on him and stuck the cherry of the cigarette right into his neck. The soldier roared when the ember lit his skin up easily. He pulled away from me, grasping at his neck; his friends however didn't pull back. The guy on the left rushed me, and tried to tackle me, but I anchored my heels in and was able to stop him somewhat, I brought my knee up into his face, and slammed his head back. I wasn't expecting the other guy though, who tackled me from the side, and brought me to the ground, his meaty fists collided heavily with my stomach, before he hefted me up in a sort of headlock, once I couldn't breathe anymore. His arms were woven around mine, with his hands pressed against the back of my head. He had me pinned.

I wanted to scream, but I knew Craig was in that cacophony, he'd never fucking hear me. Even though, I struggled against the guy and managed to get him in the face a few times with my elbow, but it wasn't enough, he had me while the other two recovered.

_Don't panic! Don't panic! _I screamed at myself inside, struggling viciously to free myself but I just wasn't strong enough compared to the fucking ogre who had me in this weird headlock.

"Let me go, goddamnit!" I yelled, trying to kick at one of the other guys, but that was a bad idea wasn't it? He grabbed my legs and spread me eagle, and even though and I struggled and kept up my mantra of don't panic…I was beginning to panic. Couldn't anyone fucking hear this?

The guy I burned with my cigarette stalked closer to me, as he unzipped his pants, the guy who had my legs started to pluck at my zipper. I let out a scream, trying to draw attention, but there was no one. The Ranger's at the watch posts couldn't hear me, and everyone else was eating their dinner and laughing, while I was about to get raped…

The guy ripped my jeans down to my thighs, underwear and all and I felt tears prick my eyes. Flashes of my father came through, but I pushed them away, that was the last thing I needed right now or there really was no way in hell I'd survive this. The burned guy ran his hands down from my neck, down to my breasts, where he fondled me and in defiance, I spat in his face.

The other two where whooping and hollering that he should 'fuck me good' and 'make me pay'.

His disgusting hands travelled lower, and groped and probed at the one thing no man has a right to take from me. I could feel tears of hate, anger and most of all, shame course down my cheeks when his fat fingers pushed inside of me.

Gasping sobs tore through me, as I began to resign myself to my fate, if there was one thing I wouldn't do, it was scream in pain, I wouldn't give this fucker the satisfaction.

And suddenly, the guy holding my legs wasn't.

A fist had collided with the side of his face, and sure as fuck, knocked his lights out. Craig pushed the other guy off of me, and decked him hard in the face, the guy holding me by my head pushed me to the ground to go help his buddy who was getting the shit beat out of him from what I could see.

I was barely able to pull my underwear back to cover myself before the blurry, tear-stricken vision, the shaking hands, and the pain in my abdomen stopped me from really doing anything.

There was a crash, where Craig had pushed the guy into the wooden fence behind the tents.

Standing back, his chest heaving, Craig spat at the three men he had just beat the fuck out of. I wanted to get up, to tell him I was fine, that everything was okay, that I just needed a drink, but I couldn't…I just laid there, gasping for breath, tears racing down my face, with my pants down around my knees. Craig wordlessly and effortlessly lifted me up into his arms, and cradled me against him.

I don't really remember getting back to the room, but it was like we were there in an instant, and I pulled myself away from him.

"Craig please, let me go, I'm okay." I could barely understand myself; my voice was so slurred with tears. Gently, He set me down on my side of the bed, and I just kicked my jeans off in a fit of hate. So much for those things protecting me…

Craig sat down heavily on his side, and put his head in his hands.

"Are you…" He just held up a hand and I stopped talking.

"It's taking everything I've got, not to take my gun and go back… and…" I sat up and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

"Can we just…go to sleep, Craig…everything's better in the morning." I knew from experience that this was complete bullshit, but the situation needed defusing, and it looked like I was the only one who could do that.

"Yeah…" Craig headed over to the door, and set the deadbolt in with a ring of finality. He climbed back on his side, and I chucked the pillow separating us across the room. With a tearful gasp of…I don't really know what. Fear? Relief? Helplessness?

He wrapped his arms around me, and I wrapped my arms around him, and he just let me sob and shake, slowly brushing my hair back with his hand. It didn't seem like it…but suddenly, the night had passed, and it was morning…and things were definitely not better.

* * *

><p><em>AN: OH SNAP! No, I don't know, I'm not hip, so I won't say things like that. But seriously? Intense? I think so...  
>Music for this chapter was <em>World In Flames _by one of my favorite bands ever_, In This Moment.  
><em>As always, I love comments, questions, critiques, you name it! I love getting feedback in any form, review format, Pm format, a nice email, anything! And as always, I believe constructive criticism is love!<em>

Final Edit: August 29, 2011


	7. When I Look at You

_A/N: Oh my gosh, I seriously rewrote this chapter like 6 times before I got to this point. I'm so, so, so sorry it took me so long to get this out to you guys, but I was just having such a block. I think I worked through it though, and I think the chapter is actually pretty good, if a little trippy at parts. I hope everyone loves it!  
>Also, I have a poll on my profile that I would greatly appreciate if everyone who read this voted, it'll only take 30 seconds, and it is kind of important, because I need to know if I should bother devoting to time to the enterprise. So, please, go vote after reading! <em>

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><p>"<em>Cass, why do you cry?" I opened my eyes, letting myself drink in the sunlight as I thought over what I was being asked. But the sky was so blue…the strange prickling sensation all over my body was strange, but everything was so beautiful, so vivid. I sat up, craning my neck around, looking for the voice. <em>

_I was sitting on…grass? Long, spindly green needles that poked out of the ground, thrumming with life. Pictures of it littered the books mom used to read to me. All around me, trees stood, actual real living trees, not the eviscerated ruins that played at being trees in the Mojave. The sun was bright, but it wasn't hot, no…and it wasn't cold either, it was simply…perfect…_

_Light footsteps behind me, and I turned, peering at who was there. _

_Verlaine was standing there, bedecked in a white dress, something that looked prewar, but…older then even the stuff even the Legion tried to dress in. And it was real…_

_Her red hair wasn't matted with sweat or blood anymore, and it seemed more vibrant and prismatic then ever, her face was serene, not the cautious, battle hardened features of a priestess that Craig and I had known. _

_Craig…_

"_Where is Craig? Where are we?" I mumbled, stunned by the beauty of this place. In the distance, I could hear a strange sound, like an animal, and close to the sounds of the Crow's screamed when you got to close, but so much more beautiful. _

"_Craig is watching over you, in Camp Golf, where your body is staying." I was confused by this. But I was in my body, wasn't I?_

"_We are in…a meeting place, I suppose you could say. Your dream." Verlaine smiled, and took a seat next to me on the grass, which I still found very curious, very strange. I knew nothing of how grass would feel, so how I could dream this up…and I never dreamed anyway. When I did, they were nightmares, filled with my father. This was no liquor inspired dream._

"_And as I asked you before…why do you cry?" Verlaine asked me, tilting her head, as if puzzled. _

"_I…am not crying…but…I was hurt, by men, in a way that no woman should, I suppose." I answered her truthfully. She had always been my friend and deserved the truth, even though I was more confused then ever. _

"_How are you here?" I asked her, deciding I wanted to ask questions just like she was. _

"_When alive, I was a priestess…and I was other things. Cass, have you ever heard of a Psyker?" My eyes widened, and I reactively pulled back slightly…_

_Psyker's were uncontrollable monsters, capable of killing people without even touching them or using a weapon. But…they were just horror stories, they didn't exist anymore. But then why did my father claim to know one…_

_I wasn't blind though, and I could see my reaction had stung Verlaine, though she didn't do anything, she just sat there, waiting for me to accept her for what she was, and I realized how stupid I was being. She was dead, and this was a dream…she wasn't really a Psyker, she couldn't be. _

"_Have you found out what Benny wanted with the Platinum Chip yet?" She asked, her accent was still heavy in her voice, and I smiled to myself, loving the way she sounded when she spoke. It began to settle on me how much I truly missed her, and I felt the anger spike again that she was dead. _

_Benny and the Legion had to pay…_

"_Nothing yet, we haven't even made it to the Strip yet. It's been just…hell, Verlaine. A vicious battle after vicious battle, it hasn't let up and both Craig and I have been…hurt many times over during the trip just to get where we are." She said nothing, just listened, her eyes understanding, and knowing. _

_If there was a person alive…or dead for that matter who knew what Craig and I where going through, it was Verlaine, the girl who had suffered more then anyone else I had ever met. _

"_No one ever said that life was easy, Cass." Verlaine quoted, and I just nodded. Normally, I would've snapped at that, had anyone else uttered it, but it was Verlaine…she was…I don't know…qualified to say that, and this was a dream anyway, so what did it matter?_

"_We're trying to avenge you…Craig and I. I don't think he ever stops thinking about it. He took your death harder then I think he shows – I think it reminds him of how he couldn't protect Carla." I told the priestess, and she looked puzzled for a moment._

"_Vengeance is an unclean, foul business, Cass. I cannot and will not tell you how to live your life once you leave this place, but you would do well to remember that. Do not forget who you are…" Verlaine warned, and I nodded in acceptance, I knew that. _

"_Do you seek vengeance against the men who violated your womanhood?" Verlaine questioned after a moment, as she absent mindedly plucked at a blade of grass rising from between her fingers. _

"_Is it wrong of me to believe that I don't really deserve better?" I answered her question with another, not sure what my real answer would've been. _

"_What your father did to you does make you a lesser being." Verlaine stated simply, and with a such a force behind her tone, I felt compelled to believe her absolutely. And then I recalled that Verlaine was the only person I had ever confided my story in. _

"_I know that…I've been told it all my life by the people who know, it's just…I don't know. It's harder to believe than it is to say it." I whispered, and I felt those goddamn tears prick at the back of my eyes. Why now? When the fuck did I get so emotional…daddy would've hated me had I ever gotten so girly in front of him. _

"_You wanna know what's really fucked up?" I asked, raising my eyes to Verlaine, who was giving me a disapproving glare, "Language, dear." She insisted, and I rolled my eyes. She had always hated profanity. _

"_I think that…I owe him, I guess. The beatings, the humiliations, the sharp slaps, and the thrown liquor bottles…when he would make me sleep outside with the Brahmin…when he would take away my dinner if I didn't shoot straight…I'm grateful in the most awful way." I confessed, shaking slightly with the unshed tears, and I realized that during the last few days, I had probably cried more then in my entire life. _

"_Those are hard lessons to teach a child…" Verlaine agreed, and to me, that meant something. She knew how it was; bad parents were a thing we both shared in common. _

"_You believe they made you stronger, don't you?" Verlaine added, dragging her fingers through the living grass. _

"_Absolutely," I nodded my assent. _

"_Didn't your mother give you up?" I asked suddenly, feeling the intense need to be reminded, but I knew for some reason that it was a redundant question, I had already known the answer, and this was a dream, so why waste time and ask it again. _

"_My mother didn't want me, and gave me to my aunt, who then gave me to the Priestesses of our tribe, and I was trained in the arts of being a priestess for the Goddess since the time I was 4…I told you that before, haven't I?" Verlaine looked up at me from the shapeless things she was drawing in the grass with her stained fingers. _

"_I'm sorry…" I admitted, and she just shook her head and smiled. _

"_I received better from my sisters of the way, than I ever did from my own blood. Raven, Laurella, Rhiannon, Diana, Gaia…they were my family. Or as the High priestess would say, we were each to each other, mother, daughter, and sister. Complete and whole with each other…" Verlaine smiled, as if remembering something fond. _

"_They taught you combat?" I wondered. Her religion never really struck me as being warlike, and so how she learned to fight, I had never known. But, again, I realized this was a dream and whatever she told me would've been made up by me, as she never told me this when she was alive. _

"_Eventually, yes, they did, but I did not fully learn the extent of my skills from them. They taught me poisons, and potions, healing powders and poultices, how to tell what direction north is, how to track animals, how to find even the smallest amounts of water. They taught me how to stave off hunger, and fatigue, and they taught me some knife work. But the majority of that came from a man…Ulysses." I thought that was a strange name to think up…_

_We were both silent for a minute, and I took this chance to lie down on my back and stare up at the beautiful sky. I was glad mother had read me all those books now. _

"_How is Craig?" Verlaine spoke up after a few minutes of us just enjoying the lull in conversation. _

"_He's…tortured day in and day out by guilt…He does a damn good job of not showing it, but it's eating away at him, a little bit every day. He's dying a little more every time I look at him. Physically, he's…hurt. He saved me from a Cazadore by flinging himself in front of the monster, and after that, he saved me from a Lakelurk, and then after that, he saved me from getting raped. So he has a 'save Cass' fetish, I guess." I mentioned this numbly. Guilt colored my face as I thought over how much I relied on Craig. _

_He's always saving me…but who's saving him? _

"_You love him, do you not?" Verlaine asked out of the blue and I turned to her, my mouth hanging open. _

"_What?" I stuttered, trying to find an excuse. But I knew I didn't have one, after all, she was a representation of my unconscious self…how could I argue with that?_

"_I…suppose…" I admitted, finally, staring down at my bare feet, pale and stark against the green grass. I ran my hands down the identical white dress, feeling each and everything soft and comforting thread. _

"_I'll grow out of it though. It's not healthy, and it's not love, that's the wrong word. I'm attracted to him, for sure, and he's kind, and heroic, and protective. But he loves Carla, and he misses her, and I can't compete, nor would I ever try to compete with her." It stung to admit this, but it was better to get out into the open where both I and imagined Verlaine could digest it. _

"_Come with me." Verlaine said, standing up, and shaking the grass that still clung to her skirts of, I stood and did the same and followed her without question. _

_I don't know how we walked through the tightly clustered trees, but it was beautiful, and then we came to a waterfall. A loud, crashing violent waterfall, so tall I couldn't see where it came over the cliff._

"_This is a place where your hopes and your fears go to die, being churned and shredded by the pounding waters. And I have never yet seen the hope of Craig loving you being churned, and ripped to shreds." Verlaine whispered, but it didn't sound quite like Verlaine anymore. I turned to look at her, and screamed. _

_The drunken soldier's grip collided with my throat and hefted me up against the rough bark of the tree, which as I touched it, it withered and died. The branches bowed, the leaves turned to ash, the grass growing around the tree blackened, turning to dust, the sky grew overcast and misty with radiation, the air burned in my lungs. _

_The soldier's hand gripped my breast, painfully and he ripped my whole dress off in one pull, exposing my body. I screamed and clawed, but I couldn't touch him. His pants dropped, and I screamed and convulsed in pain as he entered me…_

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><p>"Cass! Cass!" Strong arms shook my shoulders, and I forced my eyes open, sucking in a gasp of breath, shaking. Craig was hovering over me, his arms tight around my shoulders, his face pained and worried.<p>

I couldn't find my voice, so I just shook my head, feeling more sobs pushing up through my throat, croaking out of me. I clung to Craig, wrapping my arms around his neck and dragging him back down on the mattress, still shaking even though there was no chill.

"He's gone…He's gone. It was just a dream…" Craig whispered, his arms moving down to my back and tightening around me, while I just quaked and cried like a frightened child.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" I blubbered against his shoulder, my whole body just shivering with fright. His head was next to mine, and I leaned heavily into him, feeling the scratch of unshaved stubble against my cheek.

"You have nothing to be sorry for…" Craig whispered, burying his nose into my hair, his thumb rubbing soothing circles in the small of my back, and I began to realize how close we really were, and how stick this situation could get if I didn't get a grip and learn to control myself.

Tactlessly, I flung myself backwards off the bed, stepping a good foot away, breathing heavy, almost gasping for air. The quaking had softened, but my extremities still shook, my fingers still vibrated and twitched with fear and adrenaline.

"Yes, I have everything to be sorry for. I'm sorry for you getting hurt, I'm sorry for you always having to save me. I'm sorry for myself because I'm…ashamed, I'm sorry for myself because of what I let my father do, I'm sorry for myself because I let that solider hurt me. I'm sorry for myself because I can't compete with Ca…" I let my sentence drift off, while I just stared at my feet, still shaking slightly, each vibration that ran up my spine just caused sheer pain to race through me. I couldn't think straight, I was saying things that Craig wasn't supposed to hear.

Craig was silent for a long time; he just gazed at me, barely lit by the refracting illumination coming from our window, the stars shone blearily in the sky, like they felt how I did, like they just wanted to fall out of the sky.

"Like I said…you have nothing to be sorry for, and I know it's a lot to handle – especially now, but we'll handle it, Cass, together. I'm not going anywhere, you are…everything I've got, and that's not a romantic gesture, or a fake lie, it's the truth. What else do I have? And it's partially my fault for you getting hurt…I shouldn't have brought you here. I'm the one who's sorry." It was strange to me how he could say such emotional words, and not end up a wreck like me.

I didn't reply at first, I just stared at my feet for a little bit.

"I thought NCR were the good guys…they didn't rape. That's Legion, they are the ones who hurt women…" I wondered, picking at a speck of dust under my fingernail, trying my best to look anywhere but at Craig's face, because I knew if I did, one of two things would happen, and they would both be highly embarrassing.

Craig let out a heavy sigh, "As much as it…pains me to say it, Cass…there are good, women-respecting people in the Legion…just as there is the exact opposite in the NCR. Do I wish the sides were like black and white, with no gray? Absolutely…I wish that more then anything, especially so you don't have to suffer, but…war changes people, and what those men did is unforgivable, but they are a minority. Don't doubt NCR, or the government as a whole, but know that monsters like those men exist in every army. I'm sorry you had to be the one who learned that the hard way." I listened to his explanation, nodding with him, understanding where he was coming from.

"It didn't start out as a nightmare you know. At first, I was talking with Verlaine…in a forest glade, like the ones my mother used to read about when she still cared to pay attention to me." Craig nodded, his face drawn.

I gave a sarcastic chuckle, "I dreamed up some fucked up stuff, my dream version of Verlaine said she was a Psyker…" I giggled, stepping back over towards the bed, and sitting back down, pulling the covers over me, while I snuggled into the pillow.

"She told me once, that she knew one…a girl named Rhiannon…" I froze…

"_I received better from my sisters of the way, than I ever did from my own blood. Raven, Laurella, Rhiannon…"_

I shook my head as if to clear it. It was just a dream, there was no way…I had never known that, Verlaine had never told me that, not once, but then…how? Coincidence like that didn't exist…did it?

"What is it?" Craig asked, settling back into his side of the bed, a hand lightly wrapped around mine, in a sweet, but more protective way.

"It's nothing, just a bit of déjà vu." I explained, smiling at the touch of his hand. He would always be here for me, and I would always be there for him, a pretty good match.

"So…what're we doing tomorrow?" I asked when I began to feel the first tugs of sleep, but before I drifted off completely into unconsciousness.

"I'm going to go down to Chief Hanlon, and explain to him what happened…in the most civil way I can…" I could hear how Craig had to grit his teeth through saying this, I knew he would've rather had just shot them all, "And then, I'm coming back up here, with some breakfast, and we're going to eat, take a shower, without falling all over each other hopefully, and then we're going to get dressed, and head for the Strip, refreshed and renewed." It sounded like a really great idea, actually.

"This is all assuming I don't fuck it up somehow." I piped in, eliciting a slightly chuckle from both of us.

"By the way, I claim full responsibility for the shower fuck-up earlier. I'll try to have more dexterity in soap-catching," I laughed, actually feeling a small smile spread over my face.

It was quiet for a moment, both of us just soaking in the less heavy atmosphere for a bit.

"What were going to say before?" Craig wondered, rolling over to stare at me, and I was surprised by how completely handsome he looked, with his beret off, his glasses nowhere to be found, the slight stubble on his chin.

"What do you mean? I said everything." I answered, stretching my arms out over my head languidly, letting a loud yawn fill the small room.

"No you didn't. When you were going on that triad about feeling sorry for yourself, the last thing you said was you couldn't compete with someone. Who can't you compete with? You're number one in my book…and in most everyone else's." I smirked at my own stupidity; of course I just had to let that little fucker slip.

"It was nothing Craig, just…me feeling sorry for myself," I rolled my eyes wistfully, rolling over, facing away from him, letting him know I didn't want to talk about this anymore, but it was too hard to stop talking.

He didn't say anything, but his hand didn't leave mine, even as we drifted back into sleep, my only thoughts dwelling on how this was better for both of us…

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><p>My eyelids fluttered somewhat, with the feeling of light striking them. I slowly opened my eyes, taking in my surroundings. I was…alone…<p>

I sat up far faster then I should've no doubt, when my head went flailing in disorientation. I clutched my forehead, waiting for the rush to slow, before I tried looking around again. When my head had calmed, I opened my eyes, and peered about. Our stuff was packed, both duffels lying by themselves near the door, my jeans, and boots were on the night-end next to me, my pistols settled on top of the folded jeans. A note was lying atop my pistols.

I grabbed the piece of paper.

_Don't worry when you wake up, I packed up our stuff except for the soap and some spare clothes, and I'm either talking to the Chief or getting us food. Cigarettes are on the night-end near the window, also, I thought about what you said last night…and we really need to have a talk, Cass._

Craig.

I collapsed back onto my pillow, the heel of my hand pressed against my forehead.

"Goddamnit!" I complained to myself, a 'talk' with Craig about what I said. Fucking hell, goddamnit, motherfucker, shitstorm!

"Okay, Cass, calm down, he probably doesn't even know what you meant." I tried to reassure myself and failed miserably of course. Hopping up, I grabbed my jeans, and shucked them on, still too big. It felt weird wearing the pants I had been violated in, but at the same time, I kind of liked it, it said 'I don't give a fuck!' quite well, I thought.

I grabbed a cigarette and flung the window open, while I lit it, and breathed in the heavy vapor, letting it settle in my lungs before I exhaled a gout of smoke. The click of the lock behind me, I didn't turn when Craig walked in, the sound of a tray slightly jangling filled up the silence.

"Okay, I got coffee, some scrambled gecko eggs and surprisingly, a single fresh, not rotted, but fresh and shiny, and red apple." He sounded immensely pleased with himself. I pressed my cigarette to the windowsill, putting it out and turned, leaning against the window.

"You said you wanted to talk…" I had my arms crossed, not looking at anything, but just staring in his general direction. Craig didn't say anything at first, he just sipped the coffee in his mug, whilst thinking too himself it seemed.

"Cass…when…" He paused, as if he was trying to word this correctly, "When I said, that you were number one, in my book. I meant it…and if you think that I'll leave, or I'll walk, or I'll stop protecting you because you aren't Carla, well…that's delusional, and completely false." I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief that he didn't know what I really meant, but I didn't because he kept talking.

"Carla…is dead…and I know that, and I know that I killed her, and I know that – there may have been a chance to save her, but I can't keep dwelling on the fact that she's dead. I have plenty of other sins, plenty of other atrocities that I've committed to keep me occupied. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that…she has no power over you or me." Craig finished, and gave me that incredible look that's impossible to describe or put a name too.

"Do you have any idea what you're talking about?" I asked, taking the other mug of coffee, sipping the black liquid lightly, rich and delicious.

Craig sighed, "Cass…you don't have to compete with anyone…" He stated, passing me a plate of eggs, to which we ate in silence, while I was thoroughly confused as to what I was supposed to do next.

Carla…you were one lucky bitch…

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><p><em>AN: Yes! Another one down! So, yeah, this chapter was a bit more cerebral, but I think that's a good thing mostly. I really hope you all enjoyed reading it, and I promise I'll try really hard to get the next chapter out sooner, it's just school is taking it's toll on me, and it's only the first week! But that is no excuse, and I will endeavor to be more prompt.  
>Music for this chapter was <em>When I Look at You by Miley Cyrus.  
><em>ALSO! For those who haven't played the previous Fallout games from before Fallout 3, or for those who haven't explored the wiki, the Psyker's are a group of characters within the Fallout universe who possess psionic powers, you can read about them on the wiki, or with a Google search.<br>As always, comments, critiques and constructive criticism are universally loved and cherished! _


	8. Secrets and Regrets

_A/N: OMG! I want to shoot myself for this chapter. I honestly kind of hate this chapter, not for content or anything, it's just I had so many issues writing it because I didn't have enough time during any one time to write more then a few sentences. So, if the chapter seems a bit...whats the word? Choppy? I like choppy! If the chapter seems a bit choppy, that's why, even though I did go back over it and tried my level best too smooth it out a bit.  
>Regardless, I hope you guys like it! Also, sorry for the shortness... <em>

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><p>"Are you sure you're okay?" I stopped, sighing for the fifteenth time that day, glaring at Craig with burning eyes.<p>

"Ask me that one more time, and I swear to god, I will start swinging, Craig…" I warned, hefting my duffel more onto my shoulder, and started back on the road, the sound of leather boots on pavement was the only sound for a few minutes, "Cass…" Craig started, and I stopped…yet again, turning.

My eyes were narrowed, and I had a hand curled up hard into a fist, I wasn't in the mood for this…don't push me…

"I'm sorry…" He shrugged simply, giving me a caring and friendly smile, and I softened somewhat, but I kept my guard up, I kept that anger burning. If it was to stop, or smolder, or go out, I wouldn't be able to keep going. I'd become a mess, crying and screaming at the sheer unfairness of it all.

"I just don't get why he didn't do anything…I mean, the evidence was all right there…and Hanlon just says 'she's a whore, what'd you expect.' How – could anyone say that? He tried to rape me, that bastard and his friends and they get off free. How typical?" I seethed, turning back to the road, each step felt good, in a way, it felt good to be walking again, working our muscles, and I didn't want to stop moving.

Not moving meant thinking…and thinking meant…too many fucked things for the moment.

"The Chief is a foolish man at times, and I'm sorry, Cass…we should have never have gone ther…" I cut him off, holding up my hand to keep him from talking, "Don't you fucking dare, Craig. This is not your fault, if it wasn't for you, he would've raped me, and god knows what would've happened then. So quit acting like a whiny bitch, and just…drop it, please?" I could see Craig nod out of the corner of my eye, and I breathed a sigh of relief, finally feeling free of some invisible burden.

The farther I could my thoughts from that entire Camp, the better.

I stopped walking, and held a hand to my brow to shade my eyes while I peered out across the wasteland, in the distance, I could make out the Grub N' Gulp rest-stop, as familiar as anything.

"Hey, you wanna grab lunch down there? I know the girl who runs the place, Lupe. She's a twitchy fucker, but she's dirt cheap." I called over to Craig, who shrugged somewhat.

"What?" I sighed, turning fully to face him, a fist digging into my hip.

"…nothing, we're just…nothing." He pushed past me, heading for the rest-stop without another word. I raced after him.

"Hey wait now, what is it, Craig?" I asked, catching him by the shoulder, actual concern running through me for a second. He tended to put things off quite often, but this felt different somehow, I don't know why, but it did. The touch was electric and I quickly retracted my hand, feeling as if I had stepped on some sort of boundary, even though less then 24 hours ago, he had his arms wrapped around me.

"Look, it's just…" He took a deep breath, looking away from me, "Ah fuck, I hate thinking about it." He mumbled under his breath, "Well, you don't have to tell me if you don't want." I answered, feeling more confused then ever.

"No, you deserve to know, hell, it is important, you might wish to get as far away from me as possible once you know, and that's important." I began to feel some dread growing in the pit of my stomach, but I squashed it. The man had confessed mercy killing his wife to me, there was little else more intense then that. Right?

"This…is um…the closest I've ever been to Bitter Springs since the…_incident _– as NCR likes to call it." I vaguely remembered Chief Hanlon bringing this up once, but I couldn't really recall what was said.

"Truth is, it wasn't an incident, it was a massacre…There were Khans, we had gotten word that they were holed up there, their drug labs still in full operation. So we were sent up there to clear them out. I was positioned at Coyote Tail Ridge, with Betsy and Gorobets, the rest of 1st Recon was set up somewhere else, I don't really remember where. You see, in front of this ridge, is the only other option to get out of the grotto that Bitter Springs is lodged in. We had standing orders to shoot on sight…but pretty soon, when people started filing through, it wasn't warriors, or drug fiends, or the bastardly cowards the Khans are known for being. It was…their elderly, their women…their fucking kids." Craig was focused on a spot on the ruined pavement beneath our feet, his eyes boring a hole into the ground.

"We checked the radio for orders, but…they didn't see what we were, either that, or the Brass just didn't give a fuck anymore. We were told to shoot till we ran dry and so we did…" I didn't say anything; I just stared at Craig, trying to understand where he was coming from. I was trying to imagine the situation, to look past the instant revulsion that NCR ordained needless slaughter, but I just couldn't see the silver-lining…anywhere.

"I can still see this…little girl - fuck, she was no more then four, I swear to god. Betsy had a bead on her, was gonna drop her quick so she didn't suffer, but some of the Khans who were still fighting were using dynamite. A blast hit close to the ridge, knocked her aim off. She clipped the girl in the throat. Not enough to kill…just enough to make the little girl gargle on blood while she screamed for her mother…Gorobets was too much of a pussy to look at the poor thing, and Betsy just…couldn't do it, I guess. So I had to…put her out of her misery…" Craig visibly shook, his voice was brittle and his fists were clenched tight.

I lightly reach out and patted his shoulder, before the pat turned into a hug. His arms didn't leave his sides, and he stayed as stiff as a bored, but I didn't care, he needed a goddamn hug. I wanted to say it would all be okay, and that he had no choice, but I couldn't really say that, and I knew that was the last thing he would've wanted to hear.

"Do you…maybe wanna go back there sometime?" I asked once I had thought of the idea, closure was always good for things like this, right? In reality, I knew nothing of this sort of thing, but I felt like I had to try.

"Umm…maybe," He grunted, his arms finally regaining their movement, he gently wrapped his arms around me, and gave me a half-hearted hug back before gently pushing me away, walls back in place.

Like a self-reconstructing fortress…

"Well, let me know if you ever decide to go, and we'll make it a point to head by." I nodded and started for the Rest-stop, but I heard no steps behind me and I glanced back at a stationary Craig.

"What are you waiting for?" I yelled over to him, my brow furrowed.

"You…aren't leaving?" He seemed puzzled by this pretty basic fact, and I had to hold back a heavy roll of the eyes.

"Not really, I'm not ever gonna leave, I've said as much before, Craig. Face it, no matter what you do, you are stuck with my ass forever…" I joked ominously, trying to lighten the mood and sure enough, Craig grinned slightly.

"Now, quit your gawking, and let's go get some food. We have a Chairman to kill." I laughed, albeit, a bit bitterly, and we headed for the Gulp N' Grub.

"Cass!" Craig and I were greeted rather loudly by Lupe, who rushed over and embraced me firmly, grinning ear to ear. I gave an awkward smile, and silently pleaded to Fitz to peel the woman off of me.

"Lupe! Let the woman breathe!" Fitz smacked Lupe on the back of the head who in turn whirled around and growled almost.

"Okay, nice to see both of you! Two hot meals please!" I spoke up before the two business partners turned this into a bloodbath.

I dragged Craig over to the bar with me, and ordered two whiskeys while Fitz went about throwing together a plate of potatoes it seemed over near the stove.

"It's so good to see you alive, Cass. I thought you had died with your caravan!" Lupe exclaimed as she slid the whiskey across the counter-top to us, but I didn't touch it, staring the girl down.

"What do you know about that?" I asked; my fist clenched far too hard around the glass. I had to voluntarily ease my fingers off the brittle glass, remembering the last time I held a glass in my hand, Michelle had taken a bullet to the head, and I had ended up with whiskey soaked shards dug into me.

"Well, it happened not to far off from here, a bit to the west, just down the road, maybe a mile. Fitz and I had seen the smoke; it stuck out because it was like…the middle of the day. When we went to check it out with a mercenary who had come through, we found the ruins of the caravan, with your labels, we had thought you died." I tossed ten caps onto the counter and started down the way Lupe was pointing with a word to anyone.

The clomp of feet marching through gravel followed me, and it helped to know that I would have Craig with me, for whatever I found.

"I have to see for myself," I remarked brokenly. I could remember Verlaine mentioning seeing the wreckage herself, had said something about there being nothing left. She said she had passed by it coming up from the south, before all this business with Benny.

I smelt it long before I saw it. The acrid tang of rotting Brahmin filled the air as I drew closer to the soon identifiable wreckage of my life. A small sob escaped my chest when I saw the label on one of the crates.

"They weren't burned…" Craig whispered, striding past me too look deeper into the wreckage, I couldn't bring myself to get that close. And it was so close to McCarran's walls, how did they not try to stop it. They had to have seen this…

"What do you mean, of course they were, there's ash fucking everywhere!" I screamed, kneeling down a pile of the material, cupping a handful, letting it blow off into the wind.

"No, Cass – they weren't. Look, there is ash piles; yes, but look at your cargo, the boxes, the Brahmin. No burning, not from fire at least." Craig was right the more I thought about it. The Brahmin corpse was rotted, and destroyed, but it wasn't burned, there wasn't any exposed or burned muscle, and the skin seemed dead, but not charred. In fact, the longer I looked, the more I could see the lacerations from bullets in the creatures exposed ribs.

"So, what's it mean?" I asked, standing to height, wiping a stray tear. It was hard to look at, the ruins of my business. I knew the men on this trip, this Brahmin had been with me for 7 years…fuck; one of the guys, Gregory had a fucking kid on the way…

"Energy weapons, it looks like…could've been Fiends, they use laser based weaponry all the time, they salvage them from the vaults around here." Craig guessed, prying open one of the boxes to peer inside. The thing had been stripped bare.

"I heard about another attack though…while I was at the Outpost. Another Caravan got hit near here. The guys name was Griffin, I think. He said it was north of here, on the west side of Freeside, outside the walls…" I mentioned questioningly. I wanted Craig to come with me, but even if he elected to go to the Strip, I was going…I had to go…

"Let's go…" He mumbled, standing, and together we started off that way.

"Not Fiend's then…" Craig spoke up while we poked around the ruins, looking for anything that could be even the tiniest bit useful.

"How come?" I called, kicking a box out the way, under the box were multiple energy cells, and each drained into nothingness.

"Look at this," I glanced over at Craig who hefted a strange looking weapon into his hands. It was shaped like a rifle, but with various tubes crisscrossing the thing.

"What is it?" It was a strange contraption, but he was right, it didn't really seem like something Chem-Fiends would use.

"A Plasma rifle, while yes, it's an energy weapon, the vaults never had these things in stock from what I know, but regardless, Fiends only ever use laser based guns, not these. Whoever hit this caravan has money…and access to heavy firepower," Craig stated, looking over the gun, maybe for an insignia or something.

"So that's it? There's nothing fucking here!" I screamed, kicking the drained cells on the ground, sending them bouncing away. But that's when I noticed something. On the edge of the road, almost in a ditch, was that…a hand?

I stalked over to the ditch and peered in, and smiled bitterly, knowing the perpetrator.

"Craig…come here!" I called over to him, and he jogged over to stare at what I was seeing.

We both let out a collective sigh, knowing we were fucked either way.

"The Van Graff's…"

* * *

><p><em>AN: Ehh, it's not that exciting, but I'm really hoping that the next one will be. It should get a lot more interesting soon, as soon as I get a few of the plot kinks I have all worked out. I'd also like to say that I'm really sorry it took me so long to post this, it's just life has been beating me up lately, not to mention, my inspiration had been waning lately, but I'm going to try to revive it and push through this block!  
>Anyway, music for this chapter is <em>Secrets and Regrets _by _Pillar.  
><em>Like always, comments, critiques and constructive criticism of any kind is well loved! AND! As an added bonus, I finally learned how to operate my profile, and anonymous reviews are now accepted! THREE CHEERS FOR OVERCOMING TECHNOLOGICAL RETARDATION! <em>


	9. Set Fire to the Rain

_A/N: I'm so, so, sorry about the wait guys. I know it wasn't fair to make everyone wait this long for a freaking fanfiction chapter, and I'm really sorry about that. This chapter was fun to write though, and I really hope that shines through and everyone likes it! _

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><p>"Craig...would you kill for me? Kill an innocent?" I knew it was the strangest question I could've ever asked, but I felt like I had to ask it. I didn't have a choice. I needed to know if he would be willing to help me with the darkest of deeds I had planned.<p>

"What kind of question is that, Cass?" Craig gawked, from where he was laying on the bed. A nicer bed then we had ever slept on…together at least.

God, I hated saying or even so much as thinking that. I was sleeping with Craig…but…not. In the most innocent way possible, it sounded like we were fucking each other's brains out.

I smirked to myself, lamenting how much lady-like class I truly possessed.

I stood by the window, my hand gently parting the cotton curtains to glare down at the front door of the Silver Rush. The room stank of dust and mold, but Craig and I had nowhere else to turn, the Atomic Wrangler was the only thing we could afford…for a measly ten caps.

I could hear two men and a hooker fucking on the other side of the opposite wall, and I rolled my eyes. It was hard to believe Craig was willing to even so much as _touch _those sheets. And to think that this dive was the nicest place we had probably ever stayed. God, how I missed the open Wasteland…

"The Guard to the Silver Rush…we can't just go in there and demand answers, Craig – they'll kill us and they have the firepower to do it easily. Gloria Van Graff and that psychotic bastard she fucks…what's his name? Jean-Baptiste? That bitch will kill us dead within milliseconds of sensing danger to his whore of a sister." I hadn't relaxed since I saw the Van Graff with my men's corpses. Those fucks had to pay…I was gonna make Gloria eat her goddamn, motherfucking, cunt-licking, brother-screwing hair.

And I was gonna enjoy that shit too…

"We need to kill the Guard, so he doesn't see us when we go sneak around the back of the Casino, and climb in through a window. Then, we'll kill her men in their beds, and then, we'll find her, and her brother, and I'm going to…hurt them…" My voice shook with a strange variety of emotion.

I could hear Craig pull himself to his feet, and his hands come to rest against my shoulders, and he slowly pulled me away from the window to press against his chest. My arms fell limp to my side, and I could fell tears of rage prick at my eyes, and I wanted to shoot myself.

Leave it to me to get all fuck-headed at a time like this. Revenge was needed, and here I was, letting tears slid down my face and quake in my boots while those assholes went along with whatever they were doing. Those incestuous cunts!

"Calm down…" Craig's voice was like an eye to the storm that was raging around inside of me.

"Were you calm when those soldiers had Carla? Were you calm when those Legionaries killed Verlaine? Were you calm when that one Legionary almost killed me? Were you, you hypocritical, arrogant fuck, calm when one of your 'brothers in arms' almost violated me!" I ripped myself away from Craig and turned on him, screaming, my booming shriek drowning out the ecstasy laced moans of the threesome next door.

Fury gushed through me, how dare he tell me to calm down! How fucking hypocritical was that? I had a right to be pissed off; I had a right to want revenge!

"I have got a right to kill them! An eye for an eye, I mean, excuse me if I misunderstood but the reason we are even on this side of the Mojave is revenge!" I howled at him, pushing him back with a hard shove to his chest.

But my anger dissolved into sheer horror when I looked into his eyes, the one fucking thing I knew I should never have done. His eyes were the most beautiful things about him, and they were locked on my eyes, my boring green eyes, and his eyes showed such – _hurt_.

His fists weren't clenched in anger, and his jaw wasn't set in annoyance. He just stared at me, radiating a sense of pure and unadulterated hurt.

"Of course I wasn't calm…during any of that…" He whispered almost, in a small voice, full of pain and shame.

"Do you really believe I hesitated? That I didn't come sooner is because they were NCR?" He wasn't looking at me anymore; his eyes were downcast looking at his boots. I wanted to take it all back, but I remembered that 'word were weapons' all too late, and I was too…I don't know what I was – horrified I guess, to speak.

I tried, and all that came out was a pathetic, whispered whimper.

Craig pushed past me carelessly, his rifle suddenly clenched in his hand, he kneeled by the window, and brushed the curtains out of the way.

"Pillow." He said gruffly, and I wordlessly handed him a pillow. He took the shot through the pillow, which muffle the sound of a gunshot to almost a whisper. I could see out of the corner of the window, the guard drop unceremoniously to the ground. Craig pulled back and sat on the edge of the bed, tossing the ruins of the pillow over his shoulder.

He gave me a long, hard stare.

"Well go…" He shrugged, and I was taken aback slightly by the coldness of his words and I could see the warmth that had built up between us slide down the drain. He was back to the Sniper, he was Boone again…he wasn't Craig anymore.

I silently picked up my shotgun from where I rested it against the wall, and without looking back at what I was walking out on, I headed out the door.

* * *

><p>"Fuck you!" Gloria screamed, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. I slapped her hard across the face again, sending her, and the chair she was tied to down to the hard floor.<p>

"Now, now…" I scolded, sipping the glass of whiskey in my other hand, feeling the pull of drunkenness gush through me. This felt right. I don't know how, or why, and I knew it was certainly fucked up, but that didn't stop it from feeling fucking amazing! Gloria deserved this, and more.

I casually swiped a finger along her cheek, collecting the blood from her brother's brains when they splattered against her. I ran my finger down my throat, while I flounced about the room, drunk and happy.

"All I want to know is…why – why did you do it? Once you tell me, I'll gladly stomp your head in nice and fast and end your fucking, pathetic, disgusting, miserable life, you incestuous slut." I wasn't slurring my speech, which I thought I was odd. I was absolutely hammered, and I knew it. The Van Graff's stash of alcohol was disappearing quite quickly, and I thought it strange that I was able to think as clearly as I was.

I set Gloria upright again, before grabbing a fistful of her hair and ripping her head back, exposing that long, pretty neck. I smashed the whiskey glass against the arm of the chair, and slowly pressed a particularly long shard against her windpipe.

"Y'know…Verlaine, she was one of my friends, luckily you didn't kill her. She showed me how to cut someone's throat, in just the right way that they don't die. It's a very interesting injury, in method and effect. You see, you slit, just right here…" I carefully nicked her skin, just deep enough for her to _really _feel it. It wasn't enough to hurt her, the way Verlaine had told me about once, but it was enough to cause fear to bloom in the bitch's eyes.

"And then you press – right here," I pressed my thumb down on the center of her throat, and I could feel the pulse of her breath racing in and out of her lungs.

"It doesn't have to end this way, Gloria…with your throat slit, lying on the ground, unable to move, just barely able to get enough air to keep you from dying too fast…" I smiled sadistically.

"Cass…" I turned when I heard my name called, confusion coloring my eyes. Craig was standing in the doorway, clutching a roll of papers in his hand, his eyes weren't focused on me, they were focused on Gloria, and a fire burned in those eyes.

"You finally decide to man-up and help me whack this whore?" I asked, patronizingly. I didn't know why I did it, but I figured I had already burnt all the bridges I had built. Why not add some gasoline?

If Craig and I were gonna smolder out, I was gonna go out with some flair.

"Actually, I found something…" Craig said as he held out the two papers towards me, clutched in his hand. I took the papers from him and ran my eyes over them.

At first, I didn't believe it. These couldn't be real, I mean…what complete and total idiot would keep records of this. But I knew Alice and I knew what a stickler for paperwork that woman was.

"Evidence…" Craig stated simply.

"If you take these papers to the NCR, with the proof, and the way the events are stated here on these records, they'd be forced to arrest them. Alice and Gloria would be going away from a long time, and Van Graff's energy weapon trade here in the Mojave would cease to exist. They would never hurt anyone; ever again. But only, if you let Gloria live…" I wanted to cry, I literally felt like I would burst with tears. But that didn't happen, and I had in my hand, the proof that would make me the victor.

Slowly, I turned to Gloria.

"Thank him." I demanded dryly.

"What the fuck for?" She snarled back, and I slapped her hard across her face, sending blood streaking from her shattered lip.

"Because, he is the only reason you are still alive." I stated simply, and without another word, I left the room, and headed back to the Atomic Wrangler.

* * *

><p>I sat on the edge of the bed, facing the window. The papers were still in my hands, I didn't know how many times I had read them, but I was reading them again, letting my eyes drink in their treacherous words. The two women's signatures scrawled boldly along the dotted line at the bottom of each page.<p>

My fingers were leaving oily stains from where they gripped the paper.

The door opened behind me, but I didn't look back. Craig had done me such a…kindness. After the things I had said? I had showed a vicious, nasty side of myself, and now, I felt as if she would always be there; that other Cass, the more negative side of me, standing between Craig and I with her arms outstretched, as if to keep us from moving towards one another at all.

"I have dinner!" Craig called, his voice sounded normal, not an ounce of hurt, or anger, or sadness or anything. He sounded like he usually did, a little gruff, with that slight twang that came from all California men.

I set the evidence beside me and turned to face him, my eyes questioning. Why wasn't he angry? Why wasn't he screaming, or shooting, or hitting?

Dad would've…

"Craig?" I questioned in a meek voice?

"Yeah?" He turned to face me fully, his eyes alight and wondering, as if he'd completely forgotten what I'd said.

"What's up? Why aren't you pissed?" I grabbed one of the apples on the plate and bit into its sweet flesh while I waited for him to explain.

"Look, Cass…" He sighed, "I know what I've gotta do now, and I'm ready to do it, and I'm going to do it. And I know you didn't mean…well…no, you meant it, but I don't think you meant for it to hurt as much as it did. It's okay; I forgive you, as long as you promise to forgive me." He sat down on his side of the bed, and took a bite out of pear,

"What would I ever have to forgive you for? It seems to me, that you are the one always having to forgive me?" I picked at the skin of the apple, peeling a little bit off so I could get at the juicy fruit beneath.

"…the papers? I – took away your revenge, I guess." He shrugged, while kicking his boots off, and laying back on the bed, taking another bite out of his pear.

I glanced at the papers, and ran a finger along their outside.

"Sometimes…revenge may not always be the best option?" I wasn't sure if I believed it, and I knew I probably didn't, but as usual, I couldn't really be sure anymore. I didn't know what I felt and what I imagined I felt anymore.

I finished off my apple and tossed the core into the waste-basket near the door, before lying down on the bed, next to Craig.

"So – we good?" I asked, turning onto my side to face Craig who was throwing his pear core into the same waste-basket. He turned on his side to face me.

"We're great," He smiled at me, and I let my fingers fall into his hand.

A few minutes passed of us just enjoying the silence and the chance to rest, before I perked up and sat up.

"So, who should I take those papers too?" I asked, while shucking my jacket off and kicking my boots off my feet to the ground. I pulled the oversized shirt over my head, till I was just in my jeans and my bra and I laid back down, pulling the covers up over me.

"That Jackson fellow down at the Outpost would be a good choice, as he seemed to like you. But he's also on the other side of the desert, so for expediencies sake, Lieutenant Boyd, at McCarran could take care of it for you…" Craig said while he too undressed more, tossing his shirt off, and flinging his beret and sunglasses onto the night-table.

I watched for only a moment, his taunt muscles coil and stretch under his skin while he took off his shirt. I averted my eyes when he laid himself back down, on top of the quilt.

"So…I have to go to…McCarran?" I felt a strange sinking feel in my stomach that I couldn't quite place. It seemed strange for me to dread such a thing, but I gritted my teeth. I highly doubt anyone there would…do…_that_.

"You won't have to interact with anyone except for Lieutenant Boyd, and _she _is a very respectful woman when concerning other women." I let out a sigh of relief at the thought of another women being in camp with me. Even if it was just one other person, one other girl who could perhaps relate, I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders.

And besides, I'd have Craig there with me.

Nothing would happen….

"Y'know, you should get under the blankets so you don't get cold…" I offered, rubbing my eyes. My lids were getting heavier with each second, and I was desperately cloying for sleep.

"I…are you sure?" Craig sounded confused and I gave him a peculiar look.

"No, not at all, that's why I clearly asked, and even suggested it." I said in a dry, sarcastic deadpan which earned me a grin, and Craig slid himself under the covers.

Within seconds, we were both fast asleep.

* * *

><p>I awoke languidly, stretching out, enjoying the faint light that shined through the curtains. I rolled over to look at Craig and sat bolt upright. Craig was gone…<p>

"Oh my god, Craig – you really don't need to buy every single fucking meal." I cursed and stood up, stretching my arms above my head and cracking my neck. That's when I noticed only my duffel, and a…holy fuck, a note on his pillow.

"Goddamnit!" I grabbed the note and unfolded it.

_Cass,_

_I said last night that I knew what I had to do, and I meant that. This…is what I meant by 'I hope you can forgive me.' I hope you can forgive me for leaving you. I'm sorry, I really am. But, I have to do this; there is simply no option anymore. This has to be done. _

_I still had a lot to say to you, but I know you, and you'll probably be awake any minute, so I'll cut this short. Please…don't follow me. I don't want you to get hurt. Go avenge Verlaine, that's the important thing right now. Go avenge your men, and bring the Van Graff's and Alice down, _

_I'm so sorry._

_Love,_

_Craig. _

"You motherfucker!" I screamed, rending the note in half with a tug of my arms, flinging the pieces across the room.

I tossed my clothes on in record time, shoved the evidence into my duffel, grabbed my shotgun, and headed out the door with my duffel slung over one arm.

"Please don't follow me, my fucking ass. Oh my god, I'm gonna fucking murder you!" I fumed as I descended the staircase, into the main lobby.

One of the Garret twins was behind the counter.

"You! Which fucking direction is Bitter Springs?" I howled,

"Head out the eastern gate and trek north-east, till you get to an outcropping out there. It's hidden in one of cliffs," Francine Garret shrugged, not looking up from some pre-war magazine.

Without another word, I headed out the door, intent to fucking beat the shit out of that man.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I don't really know what to make of this chapter. I really like it, and I liked writing it, but I just don't know about it at the same time. It's a very...plot-driven chapter. There is a fuckton of plot in this chapter actually, especially the little bits that you probably don't think are super important! I hope you all liked it!  
>Music for this chapter was <em>Set Fire to the Rain by Adele.  
><em>Like normal; comments, questions, critiques, and constructive criticism are well-loved and welcomed from everyone. <em>


	10. Heaven to the Max

_A/N: A new chapter? Already? So soon? Believe me, no one is more surprised then I! This was written during school today (fuck math!) and I must say, I absolutely adore this chapter. I think you all will too. In the next few days, I'm going to be working probably pretty hard on this story, as I have developed a cold! Yay! (Boo!), so hopefully, I'll be able to get ahead of the curve, and set up some sort of schedule. (Yeah right.) I LOVE YOU ALL!_

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><p>It was dark, far too dark. The trek to Bitter Springs had been quick and relatively painless, though the scorching heat of the day had slowed me somewhat; I had still been able to make it by sundown. But that didn't really help me at all while I was standing around, looking for Craig in the middle of the refugee camp.<br>An old woman walked by me, saying nothing, her old pre-war dress was dirty and her face was drawn with hunger and fear. She looked like a tribal. The tattoos looked similar to the ones that Verlaine wore.

"Excuse me, can you tell me something?" I asked, grabbing the woman's shoulder to stop her, she turned to look at me, her eyes were bleary and her cheeks were red with tears.

"Yes, child?" It hit me how horrible it must be to live in such a place.

"I'm looking for someone, a man…in his late twenties, early thirties. He wears a red beret…" The woman's eyes widened and she pulled back from with a wicked hiss.  
>"The demons! You seek those evil men and women! Be gone from my sight!" The woman fled away from me into a hut. Various other people who were milling about turned to look at the scene, but soon went back to their menial tasks once the tribal woman had fled.<p>

"C'mon Craig – where are you?" I wandered farther into the camp, where it seemed to get denser with each step, with the huts and thrown together shelters packed so tightly together.  
>This would be a horrible place for a shootout. No wonder NCR had 1st Recon handle the Khan situation the way they did.<p>

"Is your name, Rose of Sharon Cassidy?" I turned, looking for the source of the voice. A little girl sat not ten feet away, situated in between two huts, a little fire in front of her; she was roasting some old gecko meat on a spit it seemed.  
>"Yes, it is." I whispered to her as I walked closer and kneeled in the crawlspace she was sitting in.<p>

"The man…he said his name was Boone. He asked me to tell you to stay away, and go deal with Benny." I had to grit my teeth from screaming. He knew I'd go after him…he was planning on it! God knows where he is now…

"You see, sweetie…I can't do that. I have to find that man. Do you know where he is?" The girl looked frightened. Craig hadn't told her I wouldn't just give up.  
>"No, ma'am…I don't…" The girl's words were drowned out and completely cut off by a gut-wrenching scream coming from the front of the camp.<p>

I hefted my shotgun, and cocked it, sliding a shell into the breach; I peered over the top of the squatting hut, towards the front of the camp.

I could just barely make out the silhouette of a Legion standard…

_Oh hell…_

"Stay here, and keep quiet, and don't move." I commanded the girl, dropping my duffel bag down next to her and pressing one of my pistols into the little girl's hands.  
>"If anyone who looks mean, or has a blade out comes over here, you shoot him, okay?" The terrified little girl nodded hastily, pressing herself even farther back into the crack between the two huts. She clutched the gun tightly between her two hands, which made the gun look farther larger with her holding it then it did when I was holding it.<p>

I crept around the side of the hut, staying low to the ground, my shotgun ready to rip. More screaming came, but they weren't death screams. No, the Legionaries weren't killing people, this wasn't a raid; this was a slaving expedition. A flash of red on the other side of the hut, but I didn't shoot. I followed the shape, whoever it was, was taking some sort of evasive maneuver, trying to outsmart me, or whatever it was he chasing.

One hut down, around the corner. He tried to double back, perhaps because he noticed, or perhaps because his prey did, but I was quicker, and I rounded the corner and let him rip.

The shotgun doesn't discriminate, and the shell tore through the cheap armor the Legionary wore, opening him up. He flew backwards, smashing into the side of one of the huts, his blood splattered wide and far across the surface of someone's home.

But there it was; I had given myself away. I no longer had any element of surprise, and I no longer had a chance to escape. The other Legionaries had noticed me, the sound of the shotgun, and the scream of their comrade. They all seemed to turn on me.

But this was a horrible place for a gunfight, and I could use that against them.

I threw myself behind another hut, their bullets ripping into the old metal, which thankfully kept the bullets from ripping into me. I let off another shot, blindly shooting over the hut, and I heard another scream and a body drop. I could only hope it was a Legionary and not some defenseless refugee.

More bullets and several other shots coming from different directions. At least the refugees who had guns were fighting back. But this still wasn't great, we needed to get together somehow, everyone who had a weapon needed to regroup so we could figure out a plan.

The Legionaries were drawing closer, as I could hear their booted feet on the gravelly dirt near my hut. Drawing my pistol, I braced myself against the back of the hut and shot off several rounds into the air. The Legionaries fell for it, backing away quickly, cursing.

While I had my chance, I slid myself across the floor and behind another hut, this time farther away and to the left of the group of evil bastards.

I could hear more shooting behind me, on the outside of a ravine nearby.

"Coyote Tail ridge…" I whispered, staring out at that ravine. The voices of the soldiers were drawing closer again, their voices taunting me, trying to get me to slip up and reveal myself, and then pounce before I had a chance to recover and defend myself.  
>They knew I was here, and they were trying to flush me out.<p>

I crawled around to the other side of the hut, to where I could see the Legionaries from the side, the side they weren't looking.

_Perfect. _

I took several shots with the remaining bullets in my pistol, and I was able to shoot out two of the Legionaries kneecaps, sending them screaming to the ground. I charged forward, throwing my pistol as hard as I could at one of disorientated, but still standing soldiers. It hit him square in the neck and sent him to the ground, clutching his throat. I rolled behind another hut, away from a spray of bullets from another soldier.

I rolled to the other side, and let my shotgun roar again; this time I hit the Legionary in the leg…

It was a messy scene, seeing someone's leg blown off. His dying scream rang throughout the camp, while torn muscles and shreds of skin were blasted into the air.

This gave me breathing room though. I ran forward and kicked the Legionary who I had thrown the gun at; sharply in the head, jerking his neck way too far to the right, breaking the bones clean. Grabbing and holstering my gun, I grabbed two shells from my pocket and loaded them into my shotgun, sliding the breach back. There weren't any more soldiers coming up from the north though. Turning, I bolted towards the ravine, and hopefully, towards Craig.

* * *

><p>Bodies littered the bloody dirt, a single bullet hole in most of them. Many of the 1st Recon snipers kills were headshots, as was his prerogative. I could see the ridge, the one that I imagined to be the one where he had to mercy-kill a little girl, while his companions just shot and fired, like unfeeling machines.<p>

"Craig…" I called uneasily. This many Legion, in a place that was close to sacred for him; he'd be in a blood-rage, wanting to shoot anything that got too close. And I was getting closer with each step. There was a rustle up on the ridge, and a cloud of dust came pouring off, drifting down towards the ground.  
>"Craig – it's me…are you okay?" The rage I had felt at the hotel subsided, I couldn't say I wasn't angry as hell with him, but I no longer wished to yell and scream at him. I just wanted to see his face, make sure he was okay. This would've been a…hard thing to do for anyone.<p>

"I thought I was clear in the note…" I screamed, whipping around to face the man, his glasses were gone, and his shirt was torn in several places. He was practically covered in blood; the front of his shirt was soaked through, sticking to his chest. There was little blood on his face though, just a smear on his cheek, and a new scar on his forehead, but it only trickled a little bit.

But that all came second to my eyes; what I picked up on first, were his eyes. Baby blue on color, they seemed electric and full of life and energy. He lived for this sort of thing now.

"You really think I was just going to go along on my way…without you? Despite how many times I've said you are all that I have, you'd honestly believe I wouldn't beat feet to get out here to you? You give me very little credit, I hope you know that, you fucker." I scolded him, feeling rather indignant.

"You shouldn't be here…you could get hurt, there's another part of the group, coming up this way. These bastards were just an advance scouting squad. Dogs, spears, guns…their bringing the works, Cass, you need to leave." Craig was already starting back around the other side of the ridge. I followed him closely,

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I hissed, "_I'm _the one who could get hurt? And what about you, Craig? You are flesh and blood, just like me." I wanted to hit him so bad, I wanted to start screaming at him so much, but I held my tongue, and bit my lip so hard I could taste the coppery tang of my blood.

But Craig didn't stop, he didn't even so much as flinch, or even pretend to give me an answer, he just kept walking.

I stopped walking…

"Do you really care so little? I thought…I thought I was number one in your book. You said you'd never do this – you said you'd never leave…" Tears burned at the back of my eyes, the very thought of Craig rejecting me, of Craig just saying fuck it all and going off to fight an impossible battle scared the shit out of me.

"I lied!" It wasn't the words. I had expected him to say something like that, because, whether I wanted to consciously realize it or not, I had already accepted the fact that Craig was just like all the other men in my life. But what really got me, what really stung and dug itself deep into my heart, was his tone. The anger, the borderline hatred in his voice – I had never pegged Craig as a cruel man, but the tone…that was a cruel tone.

"So what's this all for then?" I asked weakly, flapping my arms up to express the whole scene.

"It'll make sense for it to end here, Cass…" I just shook my head, feeling the tears slither down my cheeks, hot and salty, staining my skin.  
>"So that's what this is then, a suicide run? Kill as many as you can before they kill you? Is that it?" I shot back, feeling a good spark of anger kick in.<p>

"What the fuck do you want from me, Cass?" He screamed, turning on me, the muscles in his arms were corded, like they were ready to tear into me, to tear me into little bits and rip my life away.

I defiantly took the five steps up to him, standing as tall as I could.

"I want you to tell me…that this is what you really want. I want you tell me, that you aren't just doing this because you're guilty over Carla, that you're guilty over Verlaine…that…I made you feel guilty over me. Look at yourself, look at what you've done." I motioned to the sea of bodies around us.

"It's what's fair…" He said simply, his voice cracked and broken, and began once to walk away, up to prepare for the fight that he wouldn't survive.

"You know what isn't fair. What you're doing to me. That's the unfair part. You…you can't do this, you can't leave me like this." I charged forward and wrapped my arms around him from behind, burying my head into the space between his shoulder blades.

"I…I love you, Craig…and if you really want to go through with this, then fine. But I'm standing with you. Because unlike you're sorry ass, I keep my goddamn promises! If you want to die in the heat of battle, so be it. But I'm going down with you, because you are that I've got." It felt strange to confess it.

And suddenly, it all came back. When I touched his chest in that tent in 188, when we slept together in the same bed, when he saved me from being brutalized, when he held me and let me cry throughout the whole night, when he saved me from the Lakelurks, and even went back for my sentimental necklace.

I hated the word 'love', but I was at want for a different one.

Craig slowly turned himself around, and we stared each other square in the eye.

And then he was kissing me, and it was perfect in its absolute imperfection. Our hands were clawing at each other, slicked with blood and sweat, he pressed himself as close as possible to me, and I could feel the blood that caked him seep through my shirt to my body. His hands tangled in my hair, worn long and loose, just the way he said he liked it. My hands clawed at his back, my nails dragging slowly and temptingly down his back.

If it had gotten any hotter, I swear we would've been fucking.

Craig was the one who pulled back, and again, we were staring each other in the eye, but this time, a little more breathless.

When he said, "We still need to stop the Legion from slaving everyone," I knew I had won, and that Craig, at least for now, would give up his suicide mission.  
>I knew that, that particular scar, those particular thoughts would never leave, hell, they'd never left me, but I knew that with help, and with care, he could overcome them.<p>

"Alright, but promise you won't do anything reckless?" I demanded of him, and took his nod gratefully.

"Okay then, let's go kill us some fuckheads!" I snarled, hefted my shotgun to hip level, and readied myself for the fight of my life…so far, of course.

* * *

><p>I rolled behind another rock, the hail of bullets missing me by inches. Popping up over the hip level rock, I let my shotgun roar, blasting another Legionary right in the chest, sending a flurry of organs and muscles into the cold, night air.<p>

"Do you think there were any more coming down from the north?" Craig called, over the sound of gunshot. He dropped another Legionary, a round straight to the throat it looked like. I wished enviously that I was that accurate. As if fate needed to prove my point, I took another shot and only skimmed a soldier's leg, bring him down on one knee. I quickly drew my reserve pistol and fired two quick shots into the man's chest, killing him.

"Nope! I took care of them before you even saw me!" I yelled over to him, sliding two more shells into my shotgun.  
>"How many more; I'm running out of shells!" I screamed, slinging myself back up and taking a shot at one of the closer Legionaries, he ducked behind a rock though and the burstfire did nothing but put a hole in the rock.<p>

More submachine gun fire returned, but we took cover behind our respective rocks, their bullets sending up a storm of rocky dust.

"I don't know! Here!" Craig grabbed one of the SMG's from one of the corpses that had gotten too close to us when we were camped farther back and chucked at me. I caught the gun haphazardly, and checked its clip. A full one, thank god.

I set my shotgun beside me, holstered my pistol and sliding the breach back on the SMG, before peering over the rock and pulling the trigger.

I had never really shot an SMG before now, and the recoil took me by surprise, but I laughed as I shot, holding the gun tight, spraying its load wide and far. Several of the unconcealed Legionaries dove for cover from my pray'n'spray, and some of them made it, and some of them didn't. At least two men got a faceful of lead, and one other got a good three or four rounds to his right kneecap.

"You motherfuckers!" I screamed, strafing the gun back and forth, before the clip ran dry and I fell back behind the rock, throwing the gun away.

"I…think you got them all…" Craig whispered, peeking over the edge of his rock, and sure enough, no more Legion emerged from…well – anywhere.

"Because I'm awesome…" I shrugged sarcastically, and Craig gave me a grin. Quickly, we began to move among the rocks, checking corpses for anything useful.

"Why can't these cocksuckers carry real fucking money?" I growled, emptying out another bag of Legion Denari and Aureli.

"I've actually heard that Caesar kills all the gay men in his camps. He doesn't allow any sort of homosexual relationship." Craig mentioned off-handedly, picking up some sort of assault rifle. "What the fuck is that?" I asked, eyeing the gun.

"I don't know, the labels too worn to read, and I never worked with automatic weapons in the force." He shrugged, checking the clip. "Ehh, maybe half a clip, it looks like. We might as well keep it for now." He slung the weapon over his shoulder.

But I wasn't listening, I was hearing something else.

The sound of the hammer of a gun being drawn back…

I couldn't find a voice to scream with when I felt the bullet pierce my back, right in between the shoulders. A perfect shot…I don't think Craig himself could've done better.  
>Craig's voice was far away, screaming something. More gunfire, this time from something automatic; a scream of pain, that wasn't my own. I knew that because I was trying to scream and nothing was coming out.<p>

My hand clutched my chest, feeling wetness pool beneath my shirt. My knees hit the suddenly all too sharp gravelly dirt beneath me. My other hand hit the dirt next, and it was strange, the intensified feeling of dying. It was like I could feel every little particle in the dirt. My arm couldn't hold my dying weight anymore and I fell limply to the side, and I found my voice when my back hit the dirt.

The scream was so loud it hurt _my_ ears.

Hands were suddenly beneath me and I was being cradled.

I opened my eyes, when I finally realized I had them clenched shut. Teardrops splashed my cheeks and I smiled weakly at Craig's face.  
>"Please…not now…" He was pleading, as if I could somehow make it all stop. But I couldn't.<p>

And we were both to bitter and to broken to pray…

"…'s o…kay…" I breathed, my voice seemed like it was filled with blood and I coughed, sure enough, the scarlet life that was draining out of my back was also filling up my lungs. Was that why it was getting harder to breathe, and why my chest felt so heavy?

I had thought that was bullet…just…a really heavy one.

"It's not fair…" Craig whispered, his arms were gentle around me, and I could tell he was trying his damndest to keep it together, but I knew that the second I was gone. He would resolve himself to follow.

Such a shame…and such a waste.

"Verlai…woul…'s okay. Goi…to the Godde…" My throat was thick with my own blood and it was next to impossible to say anything.

Darkness had encroached and covered my vision, but there was a light in this new dead-girl sight. Red hair…pale skin…a white dress, somewhere, in the distance, I didn't know what it was, but it sounded like a knife being sharpened.

* * *

><p><em>AN: THE END! (Just kidding, just kidding!) I really hope everyone liked this chapter as much I do! I think it's hot stuff!  
>Music for this chapter was <em>Heaven to the Max by Marco Beltrami.  
><em>I love comments, critiques, questions, reviews, and constructive criticism! Seriously! You have like no idea! Those are the reasons why I'm kinda posting this online anyway! Like I said above, I LOVE YOU ALL! <em>


	11. Empty Eyes

_A/N: New chapter! This one is really long...well...kinda. Anyway, that's really all there is to say about this one. I kinda just went on and on, and I got really into Cass' head with this one I think. I hope you all like it! Drop me a line if you do!_

* * *

><p>"<em>You know, you really need to stop visiting me like this, Cassidy." I opened my eyes blearily, what I guessed was the pain of dying was still thrumming in my back, peeling at muscles. I stared around, trying to get a feel for my surroundings. Beneath me was sand, or what felt like sand, this stuff was much cleaner, easier to feel on my skin. I sat up…and gasped at the sheer beauty. <em>

_The sea…_

_Perfect, clear water stretched in front of me, as far as my human eyes could see. But I wasn't human anymore? Right? Why couldn't I see all of it?_

_The air smelt of salt and brine, clean and fresh, easy on the lungs and on my skin, the sun was hot, but it wasn't uncomfortable like it got under the zero cloud cover of the Mojave. I had seen the sea once before, I could vaguely recall seeing the green waters, sluggish and thick with pollution, my mother telling me that the sea was endless, and that it went down forever, and if I jumped in and started to swim downwards. _

_I would die before I ever reached the bottom. _

_A figure sat down beside me, and I turned to stare at Verlaine, still in her flawless white gown, her hair immaculate and clean, her skin wasn't ashy and covered in blood anymore. She looked absolutely stunning, like a girl who never had to face the dangers she did for however many years she was alive. _

"_So I am dead then…right?" I questioned her, running my fingers through the white sand beneath me, feeling each fine little crystal of mineral. _

"_Not yet…but you will be. Everything dies; this should not come as a surprise, especially to you…" I didn't quite know how to take that, I was here…in the afterlife, with Verlaine, and yet I wasn't dead. How did that work? _

"_You are here with me, because your body is hurt and damaged. It yet lives, and your heart is still beating, but your mind, your consciousness is not there, it is here, with me. With the absence of your…soul…your body has nothing to let go of, it can't really die, it can shut down, but that won't happen, the injury wasn't that serious. Craig is taking you to a clinic, to a Dr. Usanagi, if I heard correct. She will repair your body, while you stay here with me." Verlaine explained, in a calm voice, while she ran her hands through her hair, pushing her bright red locks away from her face. _

"_How long will I be here?" I asked, worried for Craig. He probably thinks I really am dead, but if what Verlaine said was true, my heart must still be beating, and Craig would know to check for a pulse. _

_I'm in a coma…_

"_Precisely," Verlaine answered, as if she could read my thoughts. I thought back to my last meeting with her, in a place like this, the forest. _

_She had told me…she was a Psyker; or at least implied it. _

"_Is that true? Are you really a Psyker?" I asked, wanting the truth from my friend. _

"_Of course, it's true." Verlaine laughed slightly, as if this was the dumbest, most obvious thing she had ever heard, and to her, it probably was. _

"_How do you think I'm here, talking to you? My body died, yes, but my consciousness, my mind, my soul lived on. I can no longer interact with the real world any longer, but I can interact with you, and with Craig. I knew both of you, quite well, and so…I can reach out, from wherever this place is, and talk with you, but only while your mind is at rest." I didn't really understand, but then again, I rarely understood or spent much time dissecting spiritual matters. _

"_So…I told Craig I loved him…and he kissed me. So…there's that…" I mentioned numbly. _

"_Really now?" Verlaine questioned, raising one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. _

"_Oh, girl…you've missed so much," I teased, and we got into it._

* * *

><p>"<em>So – you aren't going to turn into a rapist, right?" I called back, leaping onto the next rock. It was amazing what my body could do here, everything was so easy, I could move with such ease, my breath came in perfect rhythm, even my heartbeat seemed to beat with a natural and complete purpose.<em>

"_No, and I'm sorry about that. That was your mind last time, you pushed me out." Verlaine answered, leaping and twirling through the air to land on the rock in front of me. We had found these rocks further down the beach, when we were walking and gossiping about the boys that had passed through our lives. Verlaine had, surprisingly, very little to share in that department, which I thought was strange, given how just straight up gorgeous she was. _

_I had always felt envious of Verlaine's seemingly natural beauty, and here, in this place were everything's beauty was magnified times a hundred, it was almost unbearable, how perfectly flawless she was. _

"_There was only one man I had ever loved, that is not to say that there weren't others, because there were. But, because of my abilities, I was always sequestered away, kept alone and pure from the corruption of others. For many weeks, it would be just Rhiannon and I, the two psionic priestesses. The Great mother, our lady Hecate, had ordered that all girls who shown signs of psionic talent were to be kept in seclusion." I thought this was sad as Verlaine explained it to me. _

"_Who's Hecate?" I thought that was a strange name, kind of dumb, but whatever. _

"_The Great Mother of the tribe I come from, they were called The Daughters of Hecate, I'm sure you must've heard of them. They live to the east; in a settlement the Great Mother calls Ouroboros. They've been at war with Caesar's Legion for many years…" And it suddenly started to make more sense. I had heard of The Daughters, back west. _

_They were feared…_

"_Craig once told me, that you spoke to him about Rhiannon, who is she?" I questioned, leaping to another rock, as smooth as anything possible._

"_A dirty whore." I gasped and stared, at what was once Verlaine, but was now…Craig? Craig stood there, completely nude, covered in blood, so much so that the white of his skin couldn't be seen. He raised a gun towards…and fired._

* * *

><p>My eyes flew open and I was blinding by the buzzing, bright white light above me. I tried to lurch to the side, to get out of the lights way, but a hand pressed down on my shoulder, someone was talking, the light was suddenly gone, and I sighed, trying to focus on the voice, instead of the coursing pain that suddenly flared up, alighting my muscles in sharp agony.<p>

"Cass, Cass!" I focused in on the hands that held me down, to the arms they were attached too; to the man those were connected too.

"You nearly tore your I.V. out…" Craig sounded breathless, as he relaxed back into the chair he had pulled up beside my bed.

"Who…where…but, you shot…no…the man in red…but you were…and, the gun…" I knew I wasn't making any sense. Disorientation was a real bitch, and I was struggling to find an order to the thoughts that were racing through my head at a thousand miles an hour. I glanced down at my arm, to the slight tingling pain there, and sure enough, an I.V. needle was sticking into my wrist, which was hooked up to a bag hanging on a dilapidated, rust, metal hanger.

"What…was that light?" I asked weakly, holding my non-pierced hand up over my eyes, it wasn't bright any longer, and the room was a comfortable dimness, before I realized that it was almost pitch black in here, with only the light from the sliver in the door casting any sort of illumination.

"Sorry about that, the overhead light." Craig apologized, and I wanted to say forget about it, but talking seemed like too much work.

"We're in the New Vegas Medical Clinic, just so you know. Dr. Usanagi has been taking care of you; she's the one who saved you." Craig told me, and I just smiled slightly, my head lolled on the side facing him. His voice was calming, and all I wanted was to drift back into sleep.

"But…we can't afford that…" I complained, or tried too, my voice was too shot to put up much of an argument.

"Dr. Usanagi takes all forms of currency, including legion money; the stuff we collected from the soldiers at Bittersprings was more than enough." I sighed, grateful that all our money hadn't been blown on me getting shot in the back.

I swallowed hard, and wiped the sweat from my brow.

"So…how long was I out and when can we leave?" I asked, a bit more forceful this time. I was getting some energy back into my bones, and despite the heaven it was to lay in a bed, even if I was on my side, I felt like we needed to get going, and I sort of wanted too, I had held us up for long enough.

"Maybe a day, at the least, and we're not leaving till your all fixed up, which the Doctor said would take another day or two. She surgically removed the bullet from your back, but because of where the bullet was, and how many organs it damaged, she's been giving you half-doses of stimpak stimulants." I wondered how close I had truly come to dying.

"Why only half doses, why not a full dose so I can get out of here?" Craig was already shaking his head.  
>"I asked her that, she said if she gave you a full dose now, you could heal up wrong, and that would cause even more problems, so at half-doses, your body has a chance to acclimate and catch up with itself while it's recuperating." I smiled at him, chuckling somewhat.<p>

"You sound like a doctor, yourself." I giggled, and Craig gave me a small grin.

"So…two days, of nothing to do…at all…" I liked and loathed the idea at the same time. I liked being able to just sit back and relax, without having anything to worry about except getting better, but I also wanted to get moving. We were closer than we've ever been before to finding Benny and turning the scum-bag inside out.

"Well, I will see in a few hours actually, I was just getting ready to leave when you came too." I looked back sharply at Craig. Now I wasn't so sure, being left here…alone? What if…something happens?

I rolled my eyes mentally to myself once I had thought about that idea. I wasn't defenseless, my shotgun was lying right there against the foot of the bed, within arm's reach and I had survived perfectly fine before Craig came along. Well…I had survived at least.

Was it worry then, the sinking feeling in my gut, that something may happen to Craig and I won't be there to help. Where the hell was he going anyway?

"Where are you going?" I asked, maybe if I knew what he was doing, this horrible, dreadful feeling would fade away and I'd be able to think past it.

"McCarran is all, I was gonna deliver the evidence we picked up on Gloria and Alice. And I need to hurry, remember, it's been a day and Gloria is still tied up in that room." I hadn't thought of that and started to laugh at the thought, but quickly squelched the peals of laughter, it hurt my chest too much to talk, let alone really, truly laugh.

"You mean the evidence 'you' picked up. Remember, I was ready to beat the woman's brains in." I admonished sarcastically.

"Well, whatever…point is, you get the justice you deserve. I'll be back before you know it." Craig said, as he stood slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

He was about to walk out of the room, before he stopped and turned back to me, with a strange look in his eyes. Suddenly, he bent down and kissed me softly, which I returned before he was gone, and I was left there, with my bag of things…and a new addition, that I guess Craig had forgotten to put back in his bag.  
>Verlaine's pip-boy sat on top of my duffel, not a foot away…<p>

* * *

><p>"This is my first audio log. The medicine man who found me gave me this strange contraption not three hours ago. It is a heavy thing that weighs my arm to much for proper fighting, so I have resolved not to wear it normally, but to keep it in my bag. It is a useful trinket though; it has many maps and things that see things I cannot, like the amount of radiation in an area.<p>

The medicine man…Mitchell, I believe his name was, told me how to make audio logs, he said they would help keep my sane.  
>I do not understand this, as I have never been not-sane before, and I have never recorded my voice before either, but this is a strange land, so I will acquiesce.<br>I will be leaving the tribe of Goodsprings today, as I know I must carry on if I wish to find Rhiannon…" The log cut off and I turned the dial on the side of the portable computer to bring the cursor down to the second log.

I knew I shouldn't be doing this that this was an invasion of privacy, and if what Verlaine had told me in – wherever we were – was true, and then she would no doubt know I was diving in her personal logs.

I clicked 'play' regardless.

"This is my second audio log, taken…I do not understand the numbers in the corner of the screen, they do not seem to tell time to me, as there is no dial by which to measure the sun, but it does say 'clock' so I do not know, I will list the numbers anyway. 17 and then there is two dots that are aligned one above the other, and then 2 zeros." I clicked pause, trying to remember the military time that the pip-boy used.

My father had once told me how to read military time…

5! It was 5 PM when she recorded this, I clicked 'play'.

"Despite this strange time, the sun is getting lower in the sky and twilight is coming over the land. In the distance I can see the shape of the rail-riding entertainment machine from before the war that the girl Sunny had described. I do not know what I will find here, but I do know that this place – Primm – as it was called is where the company who asked me to deliver that package is located.  
>It feels strange, coming so close to this place…Ulysses must've come through here, I know that, but I also know I must find him. He was supposed to be here, he was supposed to find me. I know I may find him soon, and I do not know whether or not that is a good thing or a bad thing. Perhaps, he was trying to kill me, perhaps he wasn't, but Rhiannon…taking Rhiannon was too far. All for what I did – I have to find them…" The log clicked and turned off and I set the Pip-boy away from me, on the chair where Craig had been sitting.<p>

"Okay…time for your next dose…" A slim and sleek Asian woman walked into the room, carrying what looked to be a Stimpak, but the vial on it was only half full.

"Are you Dr. Usanagi?" I asked, my back had begun to sting and burn but I didn't want to call for her or anything seeing as how I hadn't even consciously met her yet.

"That's me! And don't you worry, I'm a fully qualified physician, and I've worked with the Followers of the Apocalypse, and I worked partially with the medical technicians at the Institute in the Commonwealth." I raised my eyebrows, she certainly sounded qualified.

"Well…thank you…for saving my life, I guess." I told her as she injected the syringe straight into the I.V. line. Within maybe three seconds, there was a powerful cramping in my stomach, before the pain went away and I relaxed with a sigh of relief, everything at ease.

"No problem, sweetheart, all of 1st Recon and especially Boone were always good patients here, it's my pleasure," I couldn't help but sense a little bit of hypocritical fakeness coming off the woman, but I also understood it too, she was a doctor and doctor's were supposed to have good bedside manners.

Unlike me who would rather just hand out shots of whiskey and tell everyone to buck up…

"Could you tell me what time it is?" I asked, feeling quite languid and lazy as the stimulants coursed through me, fixing me up from the inside.

"It's around 8:00 at night; would you like something to eat?" She asked, fussing around with the other I.V. bag that hung from the hanger.

"Um…no thanks, do you happen to remember when Craig left? " I asked, I had been drifting in and out of sleep for an immeasurable amount of time, and I highly doubted it should've taken this long to run down to McCarran. But I quieted my suspicions. I was being ridiculous, Craig was a grown man, who could do whatever it is he felt like doing. Maybe he was just having a beer with some of his 1st Recon friends.

But Craig didn't exactly speak to fondly of them when he had been telling of what happened at Bitter Springs.

"He left at about 2 this afternoon," She answered, resetting something on one of the monitors near the I.V. drip.  
>"That should be everything for right now, do you need anything else?" She inquired, coming to stand beside my bed, I just shook my head.<br>"No thank you," I answered her.

"Alright then, I'll be back to give you your other half-dose at around 8 in the morning, try to get some sleep okay." And with that, I was alone again.

I stared at the Pip-boy. Who were those people Verlaine had mentioned. Ulysses and Rhiannon? They both seemed quite pivotal to why she was here in the Mojave in the first place. Ulysses sounded like the man she had mentioned in the…dream? I guess.

But Rhiannon…every time that woman's name came up, something seemed to happen to where I couldn't get any more information out of whoever I was talking to. I needed to ask Craig about what Verlaine had mentioned to him about her. It would be even better if I could find her…

"Things I know about Rhiannon: Number one, she's a Psyker, the extent of her abilities is not known though. Number two, she grew up with Verlaine in seclusion and is the closest thing to a sister Verlaine had. Number three, Ulysses, whoever the hell that is, took her because of something Verlaine did. Number four, I still don't really know a thing about her." I seemed to stare at the information I had just spoken, as if it was written in the air before me.

I closed my eyes, and tried to force the thoughts out of my head. I needed sleep, and soon…I had drifted off.

It was the doctor who awoke me.

"Hey you, time for your next dose." I opened my eyes easily. I had barely slept last night, each time it seemed I would drift off into a deep, restful sleep; my thoughts of Craig would shock me back into reality. I felt the familiar cramp in my abdomen when the drugs were injected directly into the I.V. drip, and the ease of painlessness danced through me.

"Did Craig come back last night?" I asked Dr. Usanagi while she rummaged around, changing out my saline bag and resetting dials on my monitor.

"I'm afraid not…" She said offhandedly, and I rolled my eyes, she seemed absolutely _enticed _by what I had to say.

By now, I was truly fearful, something had to have happened. He would've come back by now, I knew he would've.

"Y'know what, I think I'm okay now, I really need to go find him." I said, and began to sit up, pushing the stiffness and pain in my back to the back of my mind, I needed to find Craig and no bullet wound was going to stop that.

A hand pressed down on my shoulder.

"I'm afraid you can't leave yet, please lay back." The doctor pressed harder on my shoulder and I pushed her back somewhat.  
>"Look, I really need to find him…like now." I pushed, and she shook her head.<br>"I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave, now please, don't make this difficult." I narrowed my eyes.

"Move." I stated simply, I was not in the mood for this.

"Please lay back down." She countered, and I made to get up off the bed. Suddenly, a needle found my neck, and I could feel the liquid damnation pouring into me.

"You…evil…bi…" I was unconscious before I could even finish my sentence.

And like that, I was opening my eyes, and it seemed like I had just blinked. I could hear arguing voices outside the door.  
>"You did not need to sedate her!" It was Craig's voice. I breathed a sigh of relief, he was okay, and he was safe.<br>"She would've torn her stitches, or damaged her muscle tissue!" Dr. Usanagi fought back with him, before footsteps were heard leaving and sigh of frustration. Craig entered the room.

"It felt like I had…blinked my eyes…" I said when he sat down on the chair near the bed.

"It tends too." He agreed, and we were both silent for a minute.

"Where were you? What happened?" I asked, staring up at the ceiling, counting each crack in the ruined plaster.  
>"McCarran…Lieutenant Boyd got the evidence and she said she'll make sure it gets to the people it needs to. Alice and Gloria have both been arrested." Craig whispered, and his hand gently felt itself down along my face in a caring gesture.<p>

"What else?" I turned more onto my side to look at him. I wasn't accusatory, but I knew that just talking to the Lieutenant wouldn't have taken that long.

"Um…well…I got us some money…Major Dhatri, the camp Major at McCarran had a few bounties out on some Fiends – some real scum – and I took out 3 of them, so that netted us enough to get into Vegas, and I…had a talk with an…old friend." I quirked my eyebrow, but I didn't push; it wasn't my place to push on anything he did.

"What were the bounties?" It was a fair question.

"Violet, some crazy woman with a bestiality fetish, Drive Nephi, another crazy who liked golf way to much…and Cook-Cook…he…he deserved every single bullet." I didn't want to question what had happened with Cook-Cook, but I could see in Craig's eyes that it must've had something to do with that 'old friend'.

"Good ol' Fiends, aren't they just the most classy people?" I joked and Craig laughed.

"I'm sorry if I worried you; I probably should've come back and let you know I was going hunting." I shrugged, or tried too with how injured I was.  
>"No big deal." I smiled and Craig nodded somewhat.<p>

"When was the last time you slept?" I noticed the dark rings under his eyes,

"Not since the Wrangler." He admitted.

"Good lord!" I exclaimed, rapidly counting back till then, "You haven't slept in two days?" I felt horrible, because I knew it was because of me that he hadn't slept.

"Ehh, it's okay." He shrugged, but I was already squirming over, and nodded to the other side of the bed.  
>"Umm, no it kinda isn't, get in bed. I'm tired anyway, the stimulants that evil woman you brought me too makes me drowsy." Craig quirked his lips, but complied with me anyway, slipping off his boots; he walked around to the end of the bed and crawled in to lay behind me. He protectively wrapped an arm around my waist and I leaned back into him.<p>

"So…why did she sedate you?" Craig wondered aloud, and I shrugged, or I kind of shrugged…

"I tried to get up and leave to go find you. I don't like being bed-ridden and I was worried because I'm just a little bundle of neurosis." I laughed sarcastically.

"I like your neurosis…" He chuckled in a small voice.  
>"You seem pretty cavalier about this whole 'I love you' thing, by the way, what's up with that? I thought it would've taken a few days or weeks to settle in before we got to the kiss point. You threw me a curveball with that one." It felt good to talk so lightly again, that we weren't planning revenge that we weren't screaming at each other, that this wasn't some heavy conversation about the bastard back in Camp Golf.<p>

It felt like...the old days, when Verlaine was still with us. But it wasn't the old days, everything had changed, and yet everything remains the same.

"I…love you too…it's…complicated I guess." He tried to brush it off in a sort of 'be happy with it' manner, like he expected me to take that in humble silence.

Two concepts I absolutely cannot stand.

"Well, we've got the time, sweetheart. Two days in fact, get talking." I argued, but I knew he would win, partially because I was fading fast, sleep was pushing at my eyelids, which I thought was absolutely the most ridiculous thing; I had just slept for god knows how long. But does drugged sleep count?

I guess it doesn't because I was asleep before Craig got a chance to really say anything.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Okay, so yeah, I had to majorly hit up the wiki on this one. 'The Daughters of Hecate' and 'Ouroborous' are actually canon! They were supposed to be in the original 'Fallout 3' which called 'Van Buren', but the company that was developing went under before production. You can read all about it on 'The Vault Fallout Wiki'. It's interesting stuff. Beyond that, I think this chapter is pretty basic. Lot's of plot and stuff. And yes, so everyone knows, I have played **Lonesome Road **and I know all that stuff about Ulysses, and yes, I'm taking artistic license.  
>Music for this chapter was <em>Empty Eyes by Within Temptation.  
><em>I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and if you have any critiques, or comments or anything, please feel free to send them my way. Much love to everyone. <em>


	12. StoneHearts and HandGrenades

_A/N: I'm really sorry for the week long wait on this chapter. My week just kinda got away from me, and it was really hard to find time to write. But I just got this one all done, and I really hope everyone loves it!  
>However, I'm also happy to report that I got my rhythm back, I'll be the first to admit that the last chapter was kinda shitty, but I hope this chapter picks up and isn't quite so boring. But isn't that what Fanfiction's for? To help hone and practice writing skills?<br>Much love. _

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><p>"I don't fucking believe you! I mean seriously!" I screamed at Mick, slamming my fist down on the counter, while with my other hand, I popped two more pain-pills. Which in reality, was just glorified Buffout that's been soaked in whiskey.<p>

But hey, they took the edge off just like the doctor said they would.

"There's nothing to believe, that's how much it costs for two people. Do you even know the price of the supplies, not to mention the sheer man-power it takes to get these passports exactly right! 1000 caps!" He screamed back at me, and if I had been in better shape, I would've punched him straight in the face.

I could see Craig out of the corner of my eye. He was standing outside, on the other of the window, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had to leave the room once Mick and I had gotten into our haggling/screaming match/business deal, probably to keep from shooting Mick, but I was beginning to think it may have been smarter to let Craig talk to him.

I was by far, the more taciturn out of the two of us.

"Fine! We'll get the other 500, but these better be the best, fucking passports you've ever made in your whole miserable, fucking existence!" I shouted, before stopping back outside, tossing my bottle of meds back in my duffel.

"Well, we're fucked!" I was still shouting, but when I realized other people were staring, I quieted down. Craig passed me a lit cigarette and I took it gratefully, inhaling the savory smoke, and sliding down the concrete wall to kneel by the window, resting the muscles in my back.

"How're you feeling?" Craig whispered, kneeling down next to me, I gave him a small smile.  
>"I've been better…" I admitted, taking a thick drag off my cigarette.<p>

"How're we supposed to get another 500 caps? Oh my god, that's next to impossible…" I whined, knocking the back of my head against the wall in annoyance. I couldn't believe it for one, I mean, I was a merchant! I used to run a whole fucking water caravan! I should be able to haggle perfectly, to get anything for any price! But no!

"We're just gonna have to find some more work. Something'll come along eventually…" Craig spoke, but I wasn't really listening. I hated this, I hated the fact that we were fighting tooth and nail just to survive, it was never like this in California, or back when I was running water all over the Mojave. I always had enough caps to get by, to buy a stimpak if I needed it.

It was so goddamn hard now…

"What if something doesn't come along? I mean, where can we go? The Crimson Caravan is being picked apart by the NCR right now, the bounties didn't pay enough for both of us, and there's little to no fucking mercenary work on this end of the Mojave because NCR takes care of all that stuff. Up north, yeah, there's work because it's untamed out there, but down here in Vegas..psh…no one will pay us when they can have the NCR do it for them…" I didn't see myself as being negative, I saw myself as being realistic.

But is there really much a difference in the Mojave?

"Well…" Craig sounded like he was about to suggest something, but he stopped himself.  
>"What is it?" I looked towards him, blowing out a small stream of smoke towards the ground.<p>

"There's always the Thorn. But, I mean, it's not much of an option. It's dangerous as all hell and you make so little per fight unless you know, you're fighting 18 Deathclaws or whatever. We'd lose more in ammo expenditure and medical bills just to keep us alive." He shrugged lighting himself his own cigarette and taking a healthy drag.

"It's something to consider…" I was lying, because it wasn't. The Thorn was too deadly, and I wouldn't put either of us in that place. To bet or gamble on fights, maybe, but I was never going to fight in that place. For all I knew, the fights were rigged to kill you.

"Well, it's getting late; we need to find a place where we can get some sleep. We can't afford to go back to the Atomic Wrangler though…" I said as I stood, pulling my muscles into a more comfortable position.

When I had left the clinic, Dr. Usanagi had informed me that my back would probably never be the same, and it would always cause me a little bit of pain, but as long as I kept my muscles working, and I didn't let them tense up, I should be fine. Which was a fancy and polite way of saying, I was too fucked up to get better, so just tank me up on drugs and I'm good to go.

I pressed my cigarette into the concrete wall, snuffing the cherry out and popped another pain-pill.

"There's the El Rey…it's a ruined motel a little bit outside of McCarran, it's mostly full up with druggies and chem heads, but there's rooms that still have beds in them. It's a bit of a hike though…" Craig offered, snuffing his cigarette out against the sidewalk and standing up beside me.

"Sounds good, the walk'll be good for my back." He gave me a small grin and we left Freeside.

* * *

><p>I was panting by the time we got to the motel, the walk had been longer then I had anticipated, and although we were able to make it before sundown, my back was screaming by the time when Craig kicked in one of the motel doors and pushed the dresser in front of it once we were inside.<p>

"Oh wow." I deadpanned when I looked around the room. The place was a wreck, naturally. Plaster falling from the ceiling with each step, the wallpaper torn and scraped where it wasn't either completely ripped off or stained with what looked like dried blood. The 200 year old carpet actually crunched under my feet as I walked around on it.

I didn't even want to know what was going on in the bathroom at the end of the hall.

"I never said it was nice." Craig chuckled and I rolled my eyes, tossing my duffel down next to the absolutely _tiny _bed, and tossing another pain pill into my mouth and swallowing it dry. I knew I was probably getting addicted, but I didn't much give a fuck, I would detox when I didn't need them.

I pushed the worn leather jacket from my shoulders, and pulled the oversized shirt Craig had loaned from back at Camp Golf out of the knot I had it in near my hip. The shirt's hem dropped down to my mid thigh. I kicked my boots off and lied down onto the thin, uncomfortable mattress slowly, moaning when my back made contact with one of the wooden bars of the frame.

Craig shut the thin curtains, and walked over towards me a sad look on his face.

"Here, this should help." He said quietly as he grabbed one of the various pillows strewn about the room, and placed it beneath my back. He kicked off his boots and set himself down behind me supporting the pillow and my back with his body.

The pain seemed to lessen and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Any better?" He asked, his arm encircling my waist, and I leaned my head back against his shoulder.

"Quite, thank you." I mumbled lightly, smiling up at him in thankfulness. It was strange to me though, I don't really quite remember how it got this way. We were friends one second, and then the next, I told him I loved him, and then suddenly, it was like this, with small secret smiles, and arms wrapped around each other and light kisses when we were alone.

It was fucking sickening, and I didn't understand it.

All this love, and hope, and gooey feelings were cutting into me, and I hated this feeling of having feelings, but whenever I looked at Craig, I couldn't help feeling those feelings!

My life is such a goddamn mess…

"Y'know, I fell asleep before you ever managed to tell me why you're so cool with this…whatever it is we have." I said, pushing myself into a sitting position. If I was lying down, I'd fall asleep again and that was the last thing I wanted right now. Grabbing my shotgun from the floor, I clicked the shells out, grabbed the cloth from my duffel and began to clean away some of the grime and dust from the wasteland while I let Craig explain.

"Do we have to do this now?" Craig sighed, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and lighting up.

"It's important, now get talking." I demanded, chipping away at a piece of dried on blood with my cloth-covered thumbnail.

Another long sigh; and the nearly silent hiss of tobacco disintegrating.

"I don't really know. It's just…it's not that I'm looking for a replacement for Carla and I really want you to understand that. I'm not just trying to fill a space. I just feel like…It's hard to describe…" I rolled my eyes and turned to him, "Could you speed this along, I'm tired and I wanna hear this before I pass the fuck out!" He laughed and sat up next to me.

"You are…loyal, brave, kind and one of the smartest people I know. And, I…I don't love you, I can't say that, at least not yet, but I think I could. I don't wanna give you any wrong ideas, Cass. It's just…complicated like I said. I mean…I can still see her face…" I took a hard look at Craig and set my gun down before leaning over and wrapped my arms around him, carefully avoiding the lit cigarette.

"It's okay, we're both pretty screwed up, but we'll work through it, together." I gave him a smile and he lightly kissed my forehead.

"It's like Verlaine went around collecting charity cases." We both chuckled.

"Hey, where's her Pip-boy? I wanna listen to the radio for a bit before bed." I said, looking around inside my duffel bag.  
>"I tossed it in mine – here." Craig said, pulling the device out of his bag and handing it too me. I quickly started to file through stations before I found one in particular.<p>

"That's weird…does this thing pick up all stations nearby?" I asked, flipping through more dials.

"I have no idea," He admitted, in between a drag on his cigarette.  
>"This is really weird; there are all these stations that have no names…" I said while I grabbed Craig's cigarette; took a drag and placed it back in between his fingers.<p>

I stopped on a named station.

"Happy Trails Caravan…" I whispered, clicking the dial to tune in and waited for the static to clear before the message began.

* * *

><p>"I don't like this at all." Craig said as we walked up towards the cave. I was panting, yet again, and popping more of those fucking pain pills every hour or so, each time sending my nerves into a little dance.<p>

"You don't have to like it, they're paying enough to get us into the Strip, and that's the important part. And besides, it's just caravan work, so it's not like it's going to be physically taxing." I answered him, chewing on one of the pills.

"You're going to overdose on those if you aren't careful…" He warned, reaching for the bottle in my hand which I snatched away.  
>"I am not, and I need them, they take the edge off." I hissed, sliding the pill bottle back through the opening I left in my duffel.<p>

"If you don't ration them, you are going to run out. How many do you have left?" He asked; stopping and crossing his arms. I swore, grabbed the bottle back out and popped the top off. I stared into the bottle trying to count them.

"I'd say I have about 40 left…" I guessed. It seemed like a close enough number.

"You're going to need to start taking them at half doses." He uncrossed his arms and started walking again, I trailed behind him.

"What? Why?" I demanded, shoving the bottle back into my pack, safe and sound where no one else could touch them. They were like…my life line. I needed the whole pill.  
>"Do the math, Cass. The message said it was 3 weeks each way to get wherever we're going on this trip, how many days are in 3 weeks?"<p>

"21." I crossed my arms, rocking around on the balls of my feet, curving and working my back muscles.  
>"Now times that by 2."<p>

"42…" I saw the logic, but I didn't want to accept it. I'd be in screaming pain then…

"Now add however long we're there, plus if you get injured, and then…" I held up a hand to shush him,  
>"Okay, I get it, thanks, Mr. Sunshine." He gave me a grin and we kept walking till we came to the mouth of the cave.<p>

"Hello…" I called inside, and I heard some talking, but it sounded like it was far off and deep inside the cave.  
>"Someone's in there…" I said before pulling out a flashlight from within my duffel and started inside. It was a quick walk, but it was a steep incline, we eventually came upon a small grouping of people, with a man sitting on a crate.<p>

"Um…is this the Happy Trails Caravan Company?" Craig asked warily. Most of the people in here looked far better armed than either of us, especially the woman with a grenade launcher hefted and ready to literally blow someone's life away.

"Oh good, someone else got my message." The man on the crate said happily, gazing up at us from the map he was pouring over sitting in his lap.  
>"We were beginning to think it was just gonna be us. Welcome, welcome!" He cheered, standing up and waddling over to us.<p>

"I'm Jed Masterson! Owner of this fine Caravan, and you are?" I politely took a step back when the man was suddenly in my goddamn face.  
>"I'm Craig Boone, and this is…Rose Cassidy." Craig introduced us when he saw my trepidation at having someone up so close to me. I didn't know why it freaked me out, but I was guessing because he was a man…and because I didn't know him.<p>

Ever since Camp Golf, those were two concepts I was not comfortable with when mixed together.

"You can just call me Cass though, I prefer it. So um…you need Caravan guards, right?" I asked, while eyeing the other people in the cave. I counted four others. The woman with the grenade launcher, a man in leather armor next to her, a woman decked out in mercenary gear with an energy rifle strapped across her back, and last but not least, some guy who was standing there in a vault suit.

He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and judging from the welts that decorated the inside of his forearms, I'd say he had been a Psycho addict for a while now…

"Well, yes and no. We've got guards, what we need is a map. And if you heard the radio message, then that means you must have a Pip-boy! So welcome aboard!" The guy seemed far too cheery, but I chalked it up to him finally getting the resources he needed.

"Well, we've got what you need. Is payment confirmed on arrival?" I asked, finally being able to sink into what I knew. I knew Caravan's, I knew how to run them, I knew what was worth getting paid over, and I knew what the work was. This would be easy. Craig and I could be in Vegas the day we got back…

"Half now, and half on arrival, our destination is New Canaan out in Utah." I raised my eyebrows; that was a fucking long haul.

"I haven't been through Utah in a few years, what road exactly are we taking?" I asked, walking around towards the cargo boxes stacked nearby, I wanted to pry a lid off and take a look at what exactly we were transporting, but thought better of it, that could piss somebody the fuck off.

"Were going in through Zion…" I stared at the man, trying to gauge him. That was dangerous territory, the cliffs were thin, and the weather could get bad. Not to mention the fucking wildlife. Monstrous mutated bears that'd sooner rip you in two then look at you.

"What are we moving?" I asked, running a hand along the crate.

"Basic supplies is all." He shrugged and sat back down.

"Well, what the fuck are we waiting for?" The mercenary girl spoke up, leaning heavily against the wall. The girl with the grenade launcher and the other two men said nothing, they just stayed where they were, lost in their own little worlds.

"Brahmin, Stella. A guy I know owns a ranch out near Vegas, he's bringing the beasts and we'll set out. He should actually be here anytime." Jed sighed, as if he has to explain a lot of basic things to the girl…Stella.

I sat down near Craig and leaned against the wall of the cave, letting the acrid air wash over me. I popped another pill, and began the wait…

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><p><em>AN: I'll admit, I think I'm one of the few people who actually really, really loved Honest Hearts. Anyway, I hope it's easy to see where I'm going with this. It may not be exactly what you're thinking though...  
>Music for this chapter was <em>Stone-Hearts and Hand-Grenades by Leona Lewis.  
><em>I really hope everyone loved this chapter; and as usual, I totally love comments, critiques, constructive criticism and everything in between. <em>


	13. Made of Stone

_A/N: Whoa! Sorry this took so long to get posted. I had a rough week, and all day yesterday, I was at a Ren Faire, so...yeah. *Nerded out*  
>Anyway, I hope everyone loves this chapter. I'm also dedicating this chapter to Steve Jobs, who was an absolute visionary. <em>

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><p>It was beautiful in a sort of ugly and unrefined way, walking down, out of the miles long narrow passage, where if you pushed your elbows out to far, you'd get caught on the razor sharp rocks. Zion was laid out before us, beautiful, wild and completely untamed. The air was cleaner here, the smell of earth and the droppings of the Brahmin didn't seem to surround us here.<p>

"Okay, people, we got no time to break, we need to keep pushing, get ourselves all the way to New Canaan, but be careful here in Zion, the cliff's are steep and wildlife's as dangerous as all hell, some of these critters make Deathclaws piss themselves, everyone got that?" Jed announced to the group as a whole. I was partially paying attention though, and I missed the next few things he yet again, had to explain to that fucking idiot Stella.

They seemed to be lovers, or they once were at some point, but that's all I really picked up off of either of them, but the other two mercenaries, Cathryn and Ethan if I remembered their names correctly certainly were lovers.  
>They were quiet, and spoke very little to everyone else, but when we had encountered a Green Gecko nest back in the upper canyons, they had shown their more than adequate ability with their weapons.<p>

I dare say that Ethan was almost as good with his shotgun as I was with mine.

Either that; or I was becoming a fucking deadeye.

"Did you see them?" Craig asked, materializing beside me. I stared up at him from the cliff I had my legs swung over, swinging merrily.  
>"See what? More Gecko's?" I whispered, clutching my shotgun closer to me. It was a lesson I apparently needed to be taught multiple times, as I had thought this would be a walk in the park, literally, but after maybe a week of travel, the open road had taught me once again to keep your weapons close and to watch for the inconsistencies.<p>

As such, the shotgun never left my grip…

"No, not Gecko's…people. Up on the cliffs, they were quick and trying to keep themselves hidden, so I only caught glimpses, and at first, I thought it was just a trick of my eyes. But up, behind us in those cliffs and ledges, they're there." I only turned slightly too look, keeping my eyes hidden under the brim of my hat. I, of course, didn't see a thing, but Craig's eyes were far sharper than mine, and if he saw them, then I knew they were there.

"Fiends?"

"I don't think so. They would've attacked us by now. They may not actually be hostile, but just keep your guard up in case, I already told Cathryn and she's watching the cliffs up-wind, just in case of an ambush."

I nodded to him, and he walked away, trying to look completely clueless to the people who were no doubt watching us this very moment.

I glanced at Cathryn, who like Craig said, was inconspicuously watching the upward cliffs, her Grenade rifle just resting at hip level, like any normal guard.  
>I knew how accurate she was with that thing, and in all honestly, I was rather jealous. With a weapon that didn't even shoot bullets, she made me look like a fucking deadeye.<p>

Naturally, Craig and Cathryn took a liking to each other. Cathryn was in the NCR too before she met Ethan and joined on with his mercenary work. She was an explosives expert and grenadier for a specialized battalion that worked in concert with 1st Recon, she had once said over a campfire, one the few times she deigned to speak with the rest of us, that she had fought in the 1st battle of Hoover Dam.

Three other people along with her had been taken hostage by Legion.

NCR didn't want to spare the manpower to get them out, and she alone escaped.

Every day, it seemed like NCR was more of a villain then a hero to me.

I swung my legs up back onto the ledge and I stood myself up, walking over to the far ledge while Jed consulted the map on the Pip-Boy. The psycho-addict's, whose name I didn't care to learn, Pip-Boy was busted, and completely useless in helping us find our way.

Why we even bothered to bring the useless sack of skin along with us was beyond me. I came to the edge of the far ledge, near a rickety old bridge, no doubt pre-war, and I looked out over the valley.

I changed my mind; it was beautiful in just a really beautiful way. Rivers snaked their way through the terracotta rock, cutting deep grooves into the earth and filled the air with the smell of fresh water. Trees…real, actual, living trees dotted the landscape, casting shade and life down where they grew.  
>It was…a very hopeful scene to me.<p>

"Alright! Everybody pack up! Let's go, we've got a path!" Those were the last words I heard come out of Jed's mouth before a bullet burst through his chest. We all stood frozen for a second, before we realized we were under attack.

We were under _fucking _attack!

People, clothed in furs and some sort of strange body markings, dropped down from the ledges, spraying bullets at us from automatic rifles. I swung myself down, dropping off the ledge to the landing below which lead to the bridge, avoiding a barrage of gunfire. Fear broke my heart, as anxiety rushed through me, what if they got Craig? What if he didn't get to cover fast enough?

There was an explosion, deafening and rocking the very ground beneath me, followed by screams of intense agony. I could hear the scream of a shotgun, not unlike mine and more screaming. And then…there it was; the sound of a single shot rifle. Craig was fine.

I raced back up the ledge, coming into view; I hefted the shotgun and let him rip. The shell doesn't discriminate, and it tore a hole through the woman, her body slowed with advanced age easily, blasting her off her feet and smashing her into the side of the cliff.

Stella was the next to go down, when for some reason, her rifle locked up on itself; the wiring fried, and she was left defenseless.  
>I knew it was a sad thing, but I couldn't help thinking that 'that's what you get for using energy weapons'…<p>

Another massive explosion hit the side of the cliff where the marauders were attacking from, and I took the chance to race over to the last three survivors.

I rolled behind the boulder Craig, Cathryn and Ethan were taking cover behind and slammed myself back against the boulder, growling at the sharp pain in my back. I needed my goddamn pills, but I couldn't even see my bag, much less go look for it right now.

"How many? And where?" Cathryn, who was loading another grenade into her rifle, screamed at Craig, who was apparently spotting for the destructive woman.  
>"Four, top ridge, three clicks left!" He shouted, peering around the edge of the boulder, before more rifle fire forced him back behind cover.<p>

My hands were shaking, and my ears were ringing with adrenaline. I wanted to stand and fight, but whoever these people were had us completely pinned down. Cathryn launched another grenade, and the shock of the explosion shook through the boulder, painfully jarring my back.

I could hear screaming, but it wasn't like the burning screams from before. Someone – a man it sounded like – was screaming at the others in a language that didn't make any sense to me.  
>"Three left, but they're falling back!" Craig shouted, his eagle-eyes gazing over our cover. We all waited with baited breath, waiting for the bandits to change tactics somehow, to figure out a way to get to us, but the minutes ticked by and nothing happened.<p>

"They're gone…let's go." Ethan whispered, standing up and stretching somewhat, his shotgun clenched tight in his grip. I let out a sigh I had unconsciously been holding in and stood up, walking around the boulder.

"Well…fuck me…that went well." I groaned, examining the three corpses near the cliff face. Jed had taken a bullet to the heart, quick and messy, Stella had been next, I assumed, when she had taken several rounds to the abdomen. The Psycho-addict had died as well, though I didn't see what happened. He was missing part of his head, so it was easy to guess.

The Brahmin, back near the entrance to the impossibly vertical narrow passages, they had all been killed. Now that I had noticed, I could actually tell that several of our supply boxes had been stolen.

So it was food and water they had been after…

Just like the Mojave. It was easy to begin thinking that I was a curse on Caravans.

Craig came to stand by me, his face etched with worry.  
>"You alright?" He asked, his hand suddenly cupping my face, which I batted away.<br>"I'm fine, I just need my fucking pills!" I admitted, stepping away from him to look for my bag.

There it was! I could see it! Completely unharmed!

"Alright, we need to get moving!" Ethan yelled, and suddenly, another gunshot. Ethan went down hard; the bullet had clipped his neck, sending a flurry of blood arching into the air. Cathryn screamed and ran to him, and she too, took two shots in the back.

"Cass!" Craig's hand found my arm and he dragged me backwards, behind the boulder, avoiding several shots.  
>"Oh my god, Oh my god, oh my god." I was panting, seeing a bullet whiz by my head.<p>

"We need to get across the bridge…" Craig stated, staring at the floating road, spanning the two sides of the cliff, "I've got an idea…" He whispered, before he surged forward, pulling me in tow. Along the way, he scooped up the grenade belt that Cathryn had around her torso.

"The ledge, trust me!" I yelled, feeling bullets pound into the dirt behind my feet. I leaped over the ledge, dropping down onto the smaller ledge beneath it, near the bridge. I hit the dirt hard, my knees driving into the painful gravel, Craig didn't fare much better, but we didn't have the luxury of sitting around.

We both darted out, running across the bridge at full speed, more bullets whizzed by, hitting the ancient planks of wood, the only think keeping us suspended over a deadly drop into the rushing river beneath us.

Craig and I reached the mid-way point of the bridge, and I could feel the missing bullets getting closer. There was no way I was lucky to enough to not get shot…again. I could hear the people attacking us clamoring down the bridge after us. Craig tossed the grenade belt over his shoulder; and it one smooth motion, spun, and shot.

The resulting blast of I don't even know how many grenades exploding that close, sent me off my feet. It was like flying, and I – for a moment – imagined this is what Verlaine felt like whenever she would do those crazy flips. The bridge rent in two, and the two sides were falling fast. The bridge was before my eyes, and I reached out in mid-air, and grabbed a hold of one of the planks of wood.

The bridge swung down, and smashed into the side of cliff with enough force to knock the wind out of me, but I kept my grip tight, and managed not to fall to my doom. I couldn't even see Craig.

"Hurry and climb! Before the ropes break!" It was Craig's voice below me, but I didn't bother looking down to make sure he was okay. I just listened to him and started climbing, hooking my fingers between the gaps in the planks. It was back-breaking, hefting my weight up, with the use of really only my arms. My feet couldn't exactly fit into the spaces between the planks, leaving my legs scrambling for purchase.

I forced my way up, and once I reached the top, and I hoisted myself up onto the cliff and rolled over, letting my exhausted body collapse. The 1st Recon asshole followed suit, and rolled himself onto the cliff beside me.

I was gasping for breath, and not just from the exhaustion that was literally making just _being alive _quite the workout, but the pain in my back was as intense as the original gunshot. It was difficult to breathe with the pain coursing into my lungs.

"So…you…still…alright?" Craig asked, in between his own gasps for air. If I had been feeling any better, I would hit him so hard.  
>"<em>Fuck<em>…_you_…" I moaned, rolling off my screaming back, and curling into his side.

* * *

><p>I couldn't believe it. The entire caravan – killed off in a matter of minutes.<p>

I was sitting on the other side of the ledge now, across from where I had been sitting before. I could even see the corpses from here, though I had to strain my eyes. It was just horrible to me. I could still see my bag, on the other side of an impassable gap, holding my treasured pills, and even more treasured ammo.

"Alright! We've got fire!" Craig announced, from where he had been working, and I rubbed my arms in anticipation, trying to put some warmth back into my bones. It wasn't that was particularly freezing here in Zion, but the air was far colder when it was saturated with the mists coming off of the river. Add in the intense wind of Zion Valley, and I take that back, it was fucking freezing.

I slowly stood, swinging my legs back onto the cliff and I walked back over to Craig, who doing a quick shell-count it seemed.  
>"I've got 4 bullets left in the rifle…the rest of my ammo's back in the bags." He mumbled, sliding the rounds back into the barrel. I sat down next to him without a word, and stretched my hands out towards the small, but life-saving fire.<p>

"I've got a single shell left in my shotgun, as for the pistols, I have one in each breach, and two extra mags. Want one?" I wasn't trying to make this better. I had given up on trying too lighten the mood, nothing would improve this situation. We were stranded.

It was a harsh word, but it was all I had, and it explained this perfectly. We were stranded in Zion, with no food, no water, no ammo, and we were as far as could be from the Strip, where we were supposed to be killing the most hated man in the world to us at this point.

And it was all my fault.

"Nah, you keep 'em" Craig said, trying to sound as if he wasn't as scared as I was.

"What if we get separated?" I didn't look at him, as I drew the pistol from my hip, and its extra clip from my boot and pressed them into his hand.

"Well, let's try to not let that happen, alright. So…I'm thinking we should get moving in the morning, follow this path. I bet it'll lead to some better shelter…" I held up a hand,  
>"How can you be so 'oh, this is all a-okay,' Craig? We are <em>stranded<em>, what is not clear about this? It's done, it's over. Even if we do find shelter, we have no idea how to get back to the fucking Mojave, especially with the Pip-Boy, way over on the other side of the gorge, next to Jed's body!" I stood up and walked away, pulling my jacket tighter around my shoulders.

It was quiet for a moment, with just the crackle of the fire and the whisper of the wind.

"So is that what you want? You just want to give up and die?" Craig asked, his voice very condescending, I turned on him, fury coloring my face. But I knew I had no argument. It was stupid to just…wait to die here.

"I…I don't know…" I sighed, dropping back down next to the fire and leaning into him.

"We'll be okay, Cass. We've been in worse jams then this…" He chuckled, stroking the fire with a long stick,  
>"Yeah, but at least at Camp Golf we had ammo…" I groaned, leaning my head against his shoulder, but quickly pulled back when the muscles in my back protested at being bent at that angle.<br>"And I didn't constantly feel like I was about to fucking die…" It was my turn to chuckle, and chuckle I did…bitterly of course.

"This is insanely boring…" I mumbled, spinning the length of Gecko meat over the fire on its spit. Why couldn't it just cook faster? What was so wrong with this being a bit quicker? Why, oh why, did this stupid slab of animal flesh have to take so goddamn long to cook.

"That was stunningly profound…" Craig chided, cleaning the other piece of Gecko meat with his knife. It was slow and…manly work.

I knew from experience that Gecko scales were hell to clean off that actual meat.

"No seriously…I'm like being driven crazy as we speak…" I giggled somewhat, rotating the spit another few times, letting the flames lick and kiss the flesh, slowly turning it a nice toasty brown.  
>"Would you like to do this instead?" Craig asked, looking up and deftly, he spun the knife between his fingers, holding the handle out towards me.<p>

"Nope. Not at all…" I shrugged.

Craig had caught – easily the biggest Gecko in the world, one with shiny green scales earlier in the morning. However, turning the beast into a meal was turning out to be a bit more of a challenge then I had anticipated.

A crack sounded out in the trees.

Craig and I were both suddenly on our feet; I had my pistol drawn, and Craig had his rifle shouldered, now with only three bullets left.  
>"More Geckos?" I whispered to Craig, taking a step closer to the edge of the trees, but he shook his head. There wasn't any way the Geckos would've come looking for the smell of their burning friend…<p>

Another crack; and I raised my pistol, and peered down the iron-sights, prepared to take a shot if necessary. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out and birds flew into the air, screaming and cawing. I dropped to one knees, trying to avoid whatever may have shot at us, but there was no bullet that struck anywhere.

A body came stumbling out of the edge of the trees, dressed in the same animal skin outfits that the bandits from before had been dressed in, but a bullet hole pierced this man's chest, he stared at us with the glare of a dying man before dropping to the ground.

Like a shadow, another man stepped out behind him. But this man…he was different. The markings that decorated his body were different from the dead man's, and the bandits from before. His animal skin clothing was different as well; different pieces in different colors.

"Oh boy, are you both okay? That White Leg was going to fire his weapon at you! Luckily I saw him!" The man, who I was beginning to recognize as not just a bandit or anything, but his accent gave him away to be a Tribal. His voice reminded me somewhat of Verlaine.

"Apparently so…and your name?" Craig asked; his rifle still shouldered and ready to fire. He wasn't dropping his guard, and neither was I. I kept my pistol ready, looking at the man through the iron-sights of the weapon.

"I am Follows-Chalk of the Dead Horses…Joshua told me I would find you here. Are you both okay?" I quirked my head, who the hell was Joshua, and how did he know we would be here. And who the hell were the Dead Horses? And what was a White Leg?

"We're fine…so…who's Joshua, and how did he know to send you here?" I asked, not lowering my weapon whatsoever.

"He…said Verlaine told him…" I lowered my gun, and stared at him dumbfounded. What?

"Who are you? How do you know about Verlaine? What's going on? Why were we attacked?" Craig demanded, sliding the bolt back on his rifle, but I gingerly grabbed his arm, my touch conveying to him to hold his temper. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and one heavy sigh later, he lowered his gun.

"I already told you who I was, and I met Verlaine when I was very young. I do not know what is going on, and your Caravan was attacked by White Legs, who attack people in Caravan's so that they may live. But I cannot answer all your questions fully. Joshua wishes to speak with you both; will you come and see him?" Follows-Chalk asked, and I gave Craig a look.

"How did Verlaine tell him we would be here?" I questioned, and Follows-Chalk stared at his feet.

"I do not know, I'm sorry." He apologized, and I elbowed Craig, "Let's check it out. If he really knew Verlaine, we may be able to get more information on who this Rhiannon girl was, and why whoever Ulysses is, took her." It peaked my curiosity to new heights, and I didn't feel so horrible anymore.

We were supposed to be here. This was all supposed to happen.

"Fine, but if he so much as twitches for that hand-cannon at his hip, he's dead." Craig growled under his breath, and we both started off after the Tribal boy.

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><p><em>AN: I hope everyone loved this chapter. I actually had such a blast writing this chapter, that I really hope everyone loves it as much as I do. Now, I do know that the story has deviated a bit from the original Kill-Benny-In-The-Face plot, but I hope you all trust me, as the story is going to take a massive twist soon that I hope everyone will love.  
>Music for this chapter was <em>Made of Stone by Evanescence.  
><em>Comments, Critiques, and most of all, CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM are all well loved. <em>


	14. Lost in Paradise

_A/N: I have no excuse, it just took me fucking forever to write this chapter. I had a block the size of Idaho! Anyway, I hope you guys like this one. _

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><p>Water. <em>Real<em>, _clean _water. It was amazing to both Craig and I as we sloshed our way through the knee-high rushing river, Follows-Chalk was striding through the rapids ahead of us easily, waving us to catch up.

He was taking us to his camp; that much was certain, but the possibility of being killed and fucking eaten or something was the furthest possible thing from my mind. I kept looking up, at the impossibly tall cliffs, decorated with massive chalk murals, depicting the victory of the Dead Horses over other tribes, monsters, beasts and various other obstacles. They were absolutely the most stunning thing I had ever seen.

"Around this bend is the main camp!" Follows-Chalk yelled back at us, but we were both to enraptured to pay much attention.

I pushed my way through the running water, the pain in my back at the exertion was driving me forward, making sure I kept somewhat of a focus and moving ahead. We rounded the bend, and came into a beautiful scene. A sort of shallow lake, and around the edges, on the shores of this lake, was the camp. Everyone looked so relaxed and happy, and yet no one was actually relaxed. Everyone, and I mean _everyone _was doing something. Women were cooking and talking; men were sparring or cleaning animal skins. Older women were tanning skins into clothing, and older men were carving wood into war-clubs, and pouring molten lead into ammo molds.

"We have friends of the Priestess among us, people!" Follows-Chalk announced, or more like yelled as he ran into the camp, waving and laughing. Almost everyone heard him and looked up, smiling and waving. A woman clamored over to us. She looked ancient, but her grip was strong when she took my hand.

"I am sorry for your loss." So they knew then?

"Joshuagraham wants to speak with them now!" Another man said, though I don't think man was the right word. He was massive, perhaps the biggest, goddamn person I had ever seen. I casually took a step back, and stood a bit closer to Craig.

"Go through that cave, he is in back." Follows-Chalk pointed at the cave entrance, and quickly, without uttering a word, we entered the mouth of the cave.

It was damp, dark and humid. Like any cave that was situated next to a lake. Campfires were placed around the main entrance, illuminating the darkness somewhat. Silently, we started through the cave, till we reached another open room…and within this room, was a man.

At least I think it was a man. He was wrapped in bandages, from head to toe, and his covered hands moved quickly across his table, sliding bullets into clips, and sliding clips into pistols.  
>"Are you…Joshua?" I asked, stepping forward.<p>

"Are you Rose of Sharon Cassidy?" He answered my question with one of his own, he looked up, and his eyes found mine.

"I like Cass better." I smiled somewhat.

"And is he Craig Boone? Verlaine said he wouldn't talk much?" Joshua glanced those pale blue eyes over to Craig.  
>"Yes, I am…and I talk enough." Craig answered, standing beside me.<p>

"We need answers. How do you know Verlaine, why were we attacked? Can you get us back to the Mojave wasteland?" I questioned him, but my anger sparked when he said nothing and stared back down at his work, and continued reloading the pile of pistols next to him.

"Verlaine stayed here with us for a while maybe 5 or 6 years ago, Follows-Chalk, the boy I sent to find you was only…maybe 10? He held a great love for the Priestess. But you asked how I knew her, and that's a long story. I knew her when I was in the Legion. I was the Legate before that monster of a man, Lanius was. Before I failed Caesar and was set on fire and cast into the Canyon…" Joshua said, sliding a clip into a pistol, before tossing two pistols into the air towards us.

I caught one, and so did Craig.

"You'll need those if you want survive here long enough to get home." He mentioned.

It was chilling the way he spoke. His voice was dead, and his eyes were…tortured. He had seen things…I couldn't even comprehend, and here I was, thinking I had it so fucking rough. Craig wasn't looking him in the eye, but whether or not that was because of his former Legion alliance, or because they had both been traumatized by what they had seen, I couldn't tell.

"I thought the Daughters of Hecate hated the Legion?" I asked, examining the pistol in my grasp.

"They do, and she did. She was the only warrior to ever beat me. It was…a strange relationship. You see, the Legion had taken Verlaine and another Priestess as slaves, but Verlaine was not just a slave, she was a Priestess, with all the skills and abilities that came with that title. Caesar has an arena where the slaves fight for their lives. Verlaine fought in that arena, and she fought against me. And she beat me. She wasn't released, slaves were never released. But she fought in the arena often, and it was in the heat of battle that I fell in love with her. And then a Frumentarii by the name of Ulysses betrayed the Bull, but did not side with the Bear. I do not know where he took Verlaine and her friend, but I know that something terrible happened, and that her friend, a woman by the name of Rhiannon was taken back to the Legion, though Verlaine never learned of that. Then the 1st battle of Hoover Dam happened, and I was defeated, and burned alive." He recounted for Craig and I, while we stood, listening intently.

This filled in quite a lot of gaps for us.

"You're killing me, Joshua…when does the happy ending start?" Craig asked, his eyes incredulous. It was quite a depressing tale.

"Not every story has one, as I'm sure you know, Sniper. Verlaine found me once I had set myself up here, with these brave and caring people. She asked me if I still loved her, and I said yes, and she told me she was sorry, but she had to find Rhiannon and Ulysses…and make things right…" Joshua chuckled darkly, and stared off into space, as if he was remembering something fond.

"I pointed her in the direction of the Mojave, where I knew the Legion was still holed up, preparing for a second strike on the Dam. She didn't leave right away however, she stayed here with the Dead Horses for many months, and it was…difficult. For myself at least, she left about a year ago…and became a courier for a while, trying to track down any clues to Rhiannon and Ulysses' location. But I guess she had a run in with the wrong package…" He finished, shaking his head slightly.

"How do you know all of this?" I wondered aloud, sitting myself down on the cold, hard stone beneath me, letting my back and legs rest for a bit.

"Verlaine talks to me…in my dreams. At least lately, since her death, she asked me to tell you this, as she said that you would end up here eventually. And she was right. So now…I can get you home, thats easy…even with the reports of the scouts who said you collapsed a bridge. But, in order for that, I will require something in return…"

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Craig asked, his breathing heavy, not nearly as heavy as mine, but he was beginning to tire. I was practically, fucking asleep.  
>"It's the way Follows-Chalk pointed us. And besides, this…oh fuck it, I hate this place." I moaned, hefting the bag more up onto my shoulder to keep from slipping.<p>

"At least…we got all of…the…supplies." Craig mentioned in between our various gasps for breath. It was like…swimming…  
>I had never imagined that the air here in Zion would be so thick, or so humid.<br>"It's easy to understand why the Tribal's here wear next to nothing…" I sighed, slipping on a stone, and grunting when my sunburnt hands dug into the hot gravel.

"You…wanna take a rest? There's one of those Ranger stations up over there, near the cliff-edge. Follows-Chalk said that none of the Tribal's go near those because of…their superstitions or whatever, so we shouldn't be attacked." It seemed like a good idea to me, but I waited for Craig's answer before I started charging off in that direction.

"Sounds good, then we can get this…shit off of our backs." He agreed, and we both started the trek up to the abandoned tower.  
>I tossed my bag of supplies down once we had climbed the hell-birthed staircase, and collapsed onto the floor, happy to be in the shade, the hot sun no longer glaring down on me.<p>

Craig set his bag down next to mine, and plopped down next to me, and wiped the sweat from his face while we waited for our breathing to return to normal.

"So much for this just being an easy caravan run, huh?" He chuckled bitterly, and I kicked him lightly in his shin.  
>"If you say 'I told you so', I swear to fucking god, Craig…" I warned, but I only got more of a chuckle out of him.<br>"No…I won't say I told you so…" He agreed after a minute, "Even though I did." I tackled him…hard. I don't think he was expecting me to actually do anything, so I was able to catch him off guard, but that only lasted till he easily rolled us, and I was suddenly on my back, with him pressed against me.

But nothing happened; we were frozen, staring at each other, both waiting for the other to make the move that would continue this….this…whatever the fuck it was. Slowly, and as deliberate as I could be, I pressed my hands into the wood floor beneath me, and pushed myself to press my lips against his.

It was innocent to begin with, just a simple kiss, easy and warm, but with each second, it grew in intensity. He lowered himself as I laid back, our lips never breaking. I ran my tongue along the edges of his teeth, and he opened his mouth more, deepening the kiss. His arms encircled me, and we rolled onto our sides, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pushed myself as close as I could get, but a passionate inferno raged through me, and I wanted to get even closer, I wanted to become a part of him.

But…but…there was something, I didn't know what it was, but it dug and clawed at me, at the back of my mind, blurring my closed eyes. A terrible fear gripped at my heart, and at last, I broke the kiss, pushing myself away, my breathing coming hard and fast in my chest, I scrambled away to the edge of the room, pressing myself as hard as I could to the wall, like I just wanted to crawl through and never be seen again.

In my mind swam images of the three men, each laughing horribly at me, their fingers tracing my body, trying to take what wasn't theirs, their fetid breath in my face, the man palming me in a way that no one has a right too. I tried to scream, but I couldn't, my breath caught in my throat and I just shook, tears coursing down my cheeks. I couldn't tell what was real anymore, was this wood beneath my fingers, or the dirt behind that tent. Was that mist in the air, or smoke from my cigarette burning into my attacker's neck?

Was it me screaming? Or them when Craig had come to save me?

_Craig._

I forced my eyes open, even though I didn't know they were closed. He was sitting up, staring at me with a worried expression, one crossed in front of him, covering a blood-soaked wound on his arm.

There was a sound, a name…my name.

"Cass? Cass!" Craig was saying, trying to get my attention. I focused back on him, while the world around me became coherent once again.  
>Something was clutched in my hand; I tore my eyes away from Craig's confused and worried look to my hand. In it was placed…a knife…one of Verlaine's knives, one of the ones I had kept, the one I always kept in my boot. Its blade was coated in fresh blood.<p>

Realization hit me, and I limply dropped the weapon, staring at the blood that had drizzled down on my palm, before looking back to Craig.

"Oh…fuck…" I whispered, completely horrified. I pushed myself away from the wall to kneel by his side, peeling his clutching hand from his arm to gaze at the wound I had inflicted upon him. I had…cut perfectly through his shirt, and a jagged gash went from his shoulder, to half-way to his elbow.

"I'm sorry…oh god, I'm so sorry." I apologized; grabbing my supply bag, the one with the medical supplies meant for the Sorrows, the Tribe Joshua had sent us to collect things for. I ripped the bag open, and grabbed the roll of bandages, slinging the bandages out of their tight little ball, I quickly wrapped the bandages as tight as a tourniquet around the knife wound, my hands shaking with tears.

"Cass, what is it? You can tell me anything…what did you see?" I looked into his warming blue eyes for a few seconds, numbly aware of the fact that I had just wounded him and here he was, trying to comfort me…

My mother would've said 'where did I go right?'

"I'm…I'm sorry…" Was all I seemed to be able to choke out, while I wound the bandages ever tighter, before slicing off the excess with the same knife and tying the bandages tight to his arm. And like a frightened animal, I was suddenly back against the wall, on the other side of the room practically, my legs pulled up to my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees. I didn't trust myself to get any closer, not when…I was…I didn't know what was happening.

Was I hallucinating? Was I dreaming? Was this some sort of breakdown? Was Verlaine or Rhiannon or some psychic force that apparently wants to force its way into my life trying to drive me fucking insane?

Was it all of those?

"Those…the…soldiers…" I tried to say around the sobs that were now pouring out of me, powered by what I had done, and also powering themselves by the embarrassment of it all. He probably thought I was crazy for sure now. First I tell him that I've been talking to a dead girl, then I nearly slice his arm off…now this…

He stood slowly, as if not to frighten me further with any sudden moves. He walked towards me, slow and calm; a look of worry but also of acceptance on his face. He gently sat himself down next to me, and with his un-injured arm, pulled me against him.

I pressed my face into his chest, while the screaming sobs tore through my body, causing shivers and shaking, gouts of salt-water practically spraying out of my eyes, staining his shirt.  
>"I didn't mean too…I'm sorry. I thought you…were…one of them." I struggled to say, my voice hoarse.<p>

"Shhh…it's okay, Cass. I'm sorry I pushed to far…I should've been – more mindful." I was shaking my head, before he even finished his sentence.  
>"No…no…I liked it, it's just. I don't know what it is…but…one day." I felt like I was apologizing, and in a way, I was. But for what, I didn't know.<p>

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry I hurt you." I whispered, clinging my arms around his torso.

"It's not bad, no worries." He shrugged slightly.

"…Carla never hurt you…" I breathed, pulling away once the sobs had subsided. I laid my head back against the wooden wall behind us, and let my breath come easy, slowly returning to normal. It seemed breathing was becoming more and more of a challenge every single day.

I glanced at Craig out of the corner of my eye, and he was staring at me with this…expression. I couldn't tell what he was thinking or what he was feeling, but I knew what I said had struck him. But I meant what I had said. I highly doubted he had to watch himself for impending knife-blades with her. She…she had always been the better choice, and I was beginning to realize that.

Perhaps what I had told him back in Bittersprings would've been better if I had never said it at all.

Verlaine seems to be enjoying death…I'm sure Craig would've liked to see his family. And yet, I kept him here. I forced him to stay because of what I had said, even though he wanted that sweet release so bad…so much.  
>Was it selfish to keep someone from dying for your own sake, when that person was already dead on the inside?<p>

"Carla harmed me in more ways than I can count, Cass." He said in a whisper after a few moments of quiet contemplation.  
>"Not every wound has to be on the outside, and I'll admit, I loved her, and I still do to a degree, but what she and I had wasn't perfect. On the outside, Carla was…one of the great beauties, I guess. She looked like one of those perfect women on those old posters from before the Great War. Blonde hair, pale skin…a little beauty mark right above her lip, the most stunning sky-blue eyes. But…that's all that was pretty about her." Craig chuckled bitterly, his voice taking on a sort of dream-like quality while he described her to me.<p>

"Carla was a liar, and she was hurtful. She hated what I loved, and she wasn't afraid to show it. 'Words are weapons' takes on a whole new meaning when applied to her. But what hurts the most is that fact that even though I loved her, and even though I married her, and even though she would lie and say she loved me back…she didn't. I don't know to explain how much that affected me, and how much it didn't affect my feelings for her…" I listened, not making a sound while he recounted this to me.

"So…you're wrong, Cass. Carla did hurt me…maybe not with a knife, and on accident, but every wound she inflicted, she meant." He finished with a bitter shrug. Wordlessly, I craned my neck and silently kissed him, a small and quick kiss, but filled with infinite meaning. And then I was standing, hefting my supply bag onto my shoulder, and rolling around on the balls of my feet, straining my cramped back in various positions to alleviate the pain.

"I…I meant what I said, when I told you I loved you…" I smiled at him, before heading outside.

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><p><em>AN: PLOT-FILLED CHAPTERS FTW! Seriously though, there is a fuck-ton of shit that goes down in this chapter I think, at least plot wise. I hope everyone liked it! And I promise that the plot will mellow out and not be so convoluted soon, I'm mostly just indulging my inner asshole the last few chapters, and using all of the little plot bunnies that swarmed this story.  
>For those of you who have stuck with this story, and are still reading, thank you! You are the reason I'm even posting this story on FF!<br>Music for this chapter was _Lost in Paradise by Evanescence. (I'm loving their new album and I can't stop listening to it!)


	15. Sunshine

_A/N: Okay, so this chapter is a bit shorter then normal. But I also just wrote it, like...an hour ago...in history class. Anyway, it's fresh and bright and new and I hope you all love it! _

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><p>"I really wish we had managed to save my pills and our cigarettes." I groaned, each step I was taking was getting a little bit harder from the pain in my stomach. Hunger and withdrawal from the Buffout were beginning to affect me adversely, but I'd be damned if I made us stop again because of my own weakness.<p>

"Oh, don't say cigarettes, it just makes me want one…or twenty." Craig chuckled, keeping a steady pace next to me, occasionally reaching out to keep me balanced. Though I didn't say it, he knew I was hurting, and he knew I was about ready to fucking drop.  
>"I…seriously need my…pills, Craig." I said, in a more serious tone.<p>

It was beginning to actually get pretty bad, but I had to partially wonder what exactly it was I expected? I knew this would happen, I was told from the second Dr. Usanagi put the goddamn bottle in my hand; that they were extremely addictive, and I would only have that one bottle till I could buy more from her.

Why? Why did I do what I did? Why did I pop them like they were fucking candy?

I stared down at my shaking hands, the muscles practically pulverized with the pain that shook up through my arms. It felt like my knuckles were displaced, they were shaking so bad and so hard.  
>"The Sorrows can help, remember, Joshua said that they were skilled with healing and physical ailments. They weren't warriors but healers, remember? We'll get you help, I promise." He whispered, lightly, instinctively knowing I was suffering from a massive migraine. It literally felt like my head was splitting, so much so that my vision was blurring slowly on the edges of my sight.<p>

Any sort of sound made it worse, and the intense sunlight that filtered down into the canyons during midday was nearly blinding to my sensitive eyes.

"Cass…" Craig's voice sounded suddenly, filled with warning, but blindly, I blundered along, not wanting to stop for anything. I would _not _look weak now. But Craig's hand was suddenly a vice-like grip on my wrist, pulling me back against him.

"Cass…look up…" He whispered; his body as still as stone. I focused my eyes, staring through the burning sunlight. On top of a near-by rock, sat the fiercest looking creature I had ever seen. Its head was like that of a bear; or at least that what I think they were called. Mother had only rarely showed me those pre-war books with the animals in them.

Its fur, where it wasn't matted with blood or wrapped up in tangles, was glossy and black. Bald-patches showed the beasts mottled skin, sickly green with steaming pustules leaking fluid, which I realized was what was oiling the creature's coat. Its yellow-white eyes stared at us simply, not in a threatening way, but a curious way.

Like he didn't know what we were.

"Yao Guai…" I whispered weakly, a burst of survivalistic fear pushed all pain out of my limbs. I had seen these creatures only once before, farther than this out east. They were terrible monsters, capable of tearing a Deathclaw to _pieces_.

"I think it's blind…look at its eyes…" Craig said in wonder. The beast was magnificent, though infinitely deadly. But I knew running only excited them, and there wasn't a creature in the wasteland who could outrun a hungry Yao Guai. My eyes travelled down the creature's powerful torso to its feet, each toe tipped with a 6-inch long razor sharp nail. One swipe and it would take off a person's goddamn head.

Its mouth looked big enough to literally bite a person in half.

"It isn't…it can see us perfectly well." I corrected him, as I slowly reached behind me, in between Craig and I; and I pulled the .45 Pistol Joshua had thrown to me, out of the waistband of my jeans. Carefully, I clicked the hammer backed, and prepared to fire, but my plan was cut off by a rush of terror when the beast reared up on its back legs, and let out an ear-splitting roar, loud enough to echo all throughout the canyon.

The beast charged.

"Run!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, charging to the left of the canyon, pulling it Craig in tow, narrowly missing the Yao Guai, which slammed into the cliff-face so hard that rocks tumbled from above, raining down on both Craig and I.

Craig let go of my hand and sped up next to me, our breath was coming fast and hard as we ran for our lives. But I had seen this before, and I knew we would not make it.

Down the cliff we ran, keeping close to the rock wall at our side, and both of us unwilling to stare in the other direction and see nothing but a drop high enough to kill us instantly once we hit that water.  
>It would be like hitting fucking concrete…<p>

I could hear the Yao Guai behind us, roaring and panting, charging after us. This was a game to him, catch the feisty meal. I struggled with the idea of – when we finally ran out of cliff – would we do it ourselves to save us the pain? Or would we face whatever the horrors of Zion decided to throw at us.

It seemed to me that the time was approaching faster than anticipated. Out in front of us, I could see the end of the cliff…with nothing on the other side, except a rock, a good 15 feet away from the cliff. Even if we did jump, we'd never make it that far. We slid to a stop near the drop, and peeked over. Just as I thought, the drop was a good 100 feet, to nothing below us but a rushing river, ready to either crush or drown us.

"I love you…" I whispered, glancing at Craig, fear in my heart, but also a great sadness. This was how it was going to end? By either getting torn apart, or by jumping to our deaths? So much for our revenge; but even in this, I could see the irony. As far as possible from where we should be…

"I'm sorry, Cass…" He said, swallowing the knot in his throat.

"Don't be…I mean…at least we'll get to see Verlaine, Carla will be there, so will your baby, I can finally apologize to my mother. Perhaps…we won't mind dying so much." I said, breathless. I turned to face the Yao Guai, charging at us from downhill, the slavering monster's teeth barred and ready for the messy kill.

I took Craig's hand, and closed my eyes.

But the death I had been waiting for didn't come. I opened my eyes. The Yao Guai had stopped, his grizzled face glaring down at us, but he moved no closer. A sickly sweet smell filled the air, and like a miracle from above, or at least I hoped it was a miracle, balls of smoke flew from over our heads, and landed on the ground, in between us and the monster.

The Yao Guai backed away slowly, growling before fleeing completely as the smoke encroached further towards it.

Cautiously, I approached the sweet-smelling balls of smoke. The scent calmed my headache almost instantly, as I inhaled more of the vapor. I kneeled down and plucked up, what wasn't a ball of smoke, but a bundle of herbs, the end set ablaze like a cigarette.

"Are you Rose of Sharon Cassidy and Craig Boone?" A strong, accented female voice called out, and I glared around for the source of the voice, on the rock on the other side of the gap crouched a woman bedecked in tribal apparel, feathers laced about her clothes, her head was shaved and her eyes were a bright color, though I was too far away to make it out.

" We are!" Craig called over to our apparent savior.

"Welcome to the camp of the Sorrows then, outsiders. Follow the path back the way you came, and take those Datura bundles, when you get back to where the Yao Guai attacked, go around the stone and follow the path down to the water, I shall be waiting for you there, go now!" And like that, the woman was gone.

It was a quiet night I guessed for the Sorrows. Well, if you call them a quiet people. It was strange to see so many people to be actually happy with their lot in life. Children played, the woman laughed and talked as they spun cloth and wove together more of those Yao-Guai repelling herb bundles, the men horses around and roared with laughter as they sparred, or sharpened arrows.

Or the claws of the gauntlets each Hunter seemed to wear…

The Sorrows had taken us in quiet readily, gladly accepting the supplies we had brought. Daniel, the man Joshua claimed we were to give the supplies too was a quiet man, smart and caring for these people. A New Canaanite though, through and through, he seemed almost resentful that we had known Verlaine.

'_That faithless witch' _He had called her when he had asked us how Joshua knew us, and we answered with Joshua's explanation.  
>I, in particular, thought it was rather funny. He had clearly never met the woman, because she had quite a lot of faith, just not in his 'Father in the caves'.<p>

"You awake?" It was Craig's voice next to me, and I opened my eyes and rolled onto my side to stare at him.  
>"Yeah…" I said simply, listening to the sound of the rushing water that seemed to cut a swath of life though the ravines that the Sorrows lived within. I brought my hands out from behind my head, feeling the soft fur of the skins I was laying on between my fingers. I had been sent here to this skin since I first arrived, and mentioned my headache and the blurring vision to their healermidwife/herbal commando woman.

She had some sort of rare blend of herbs burning around me, and I was to keep breathing the smoke in an out and it would supposedly purge the toxic drugs Dr. Usanagi had given me from my system.

I couldn't tell if it was working, because I felt too damn high to notice.

If Psycho was this good, I think I might've become an addict far before the good Doctor had ever administered that damn Buffout concoction.

I was light-headed, and to be honest, horny as hell, hence why I kept myself on the makeshift pallet, to keep from jumping Craig in front of everyone, which didn't seem to be such a bad idea as the seconds wore on. I was able to see through my muddled thoughts enough though to actually pay attention to whatever it was he wanted.

"Waking Cloud or whatever wanted to know if you were getting hungry?" He chuckled, wiping some hair out of my face.  
>"Don't call her whatever, she's the nice lady who's fixing my brains!" I shouted at him, feeling the fog of whatever I was breathing in augment my voice to say what it wanted to say, my thoughts be damned.<p>

Craig started laughing at me, a throaty and good-natured laugh.

It seriously pissed me the fuck off.

"And yes, I'm really hungry actually. Can you ask if they have any of those little snack cakes I love so much?" I growled, rolling onto my other side before realizing I couldn't see him anymore and rolling back.

"You hate Fancy Lads…Verlaine once grabbed some when we raided a Super-Duper mart, and you chucked them out the window, Cass…" He was laughing even harder now, but I just couldn't see what the hell was so fucking funny!

"I love them!"I argued, shouting at him. In actuality, I could remember this scenario he was describing, but it didn't stop my craving for the sweet little nuggets of goodness.

"They don't have any, Cass. It's only what they can hunt or grow here in Zion. Do you want something sweet though? They have fruit…" He offered, a bit more sober this time, which lessened my confused anger.

"Ew no!" I smashed my head back against the skins, and rolled over onto my side, not wanting to look at him anymore.  
>"Fruit is like…so bad for you here." I was completely sincere.<p>

"Okay then…I'll bring you some Bighorner, just…stay put." He chuckled, and was gone, and I thrashed more in anger. I didn't want Bighorner! I wanted…wait, ew no, not Fancy Lads, gross…

* * *

><p><em>AN: Okay, so like I said, it was short. But I also think this adds a bit of levity to a very hardcore situation. Love you all, and hope you all loved this chapter!  
>Music for this chapter was <em>Sunshine by John Murphy. (Composed for the movie 'Sunshine'. (Yes, I know I should've been listening to my teacher instead! Omg parantheses within parantheses!))  
><em>Like I've said before, to everyone who even bothers to read this story and especially to those who read it regularly, I love you all so much and you keep my days bright! Comments, and Critiques are appreciated as always!<em>


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